


Roof of Glass

by Miri1984



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: IT'S ALL ABOUT THE ORC AND HIS PALADIN, M/M, Multi, Zolf/Oscar is background to this one, more characters to be added I am assuming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: Tjelvar Stornsasson is at a loss. He found Hannibal's tomb, and it was empty, and now the world is falling apart around him. He needs a rock, a base to keep him anchored. Enter Edward Keystone, a man on whom Tjelvar finds it far too easy to lean.





	1. An Offer of Employment

France in spring was generally a delightful place, rolling hills and fields and vineyards and excellent food notwithstanding, archaeological digs that were not plagued with rain and snow and sleet were alway preferable to the alternative. At least in Tjelvar’s opinion.

This one was somewhat dull, though, he couldn’t help thinking. The ruins of the farm had turned up some interesting artefacts that were dated around the fall of Rome and a more thorough dig had been commissioned by the university of Paris. It had been going on for several months by the time Tjelvar joined, Hannibal’s tomb having interfered with his going right at the beginning of the dig (as it had interfered with so many other things over the course of his career) but he had accepted an invitation to join the final stages, since it was on his way and he _ did _need to keep himself busy these days.

Funny thing about finishing one’s life’s work. It left one at something of a loose end.

In any case there was a rhythm to a dig that helped with Tjelvar’s sense of purposelessness. Interacting with other archaeologists rather than attempting to negotiate with adventurers was… pleasant. He supposed. Safer than being attacked by snow leopards and falling into poisoned pits. 

Still he felt like something was missing.

He’d been on the dig for a week when they found the stash.

The upper levels of the dig had been mostly farming detritus. The estate was large and sprawling and the farm itself had obviously been busy and successful. The building itself had some interesting mixtures of Roman and French style architecture, not completely unknown in this part of the world (they were relatively close to the borders of Rome, not close enough to be dangerous, but close enough for there to be some cultural bleed) and every now and then something odd had shown up. A complicated lock. A crystal that might once have been magical, long since exhausted. But nothing compared to what they found in the remains of the farmstead’s basement.

Secret weapons caches were definitely _ not _ a standard find. Secret weapon caches as extensive and varied as this one, _ unheard of _ . The sheer number of daggers, neatly arranged as though they were on display at a museum, was staggering. Most were worn, old and useless, if fascinating to look at, but there was a collection of _ magical _daggers that would rival some of the high end stores in Prague.

It was an enormous find, one that would cover the cost of the dig a hundred times over, and Tjelvar should have been more satisfied with it than he was.

It felt hollow, though.

They’d found something else in the cache that was somewhat puzzling. A chest, small enough to be easily transported. It was locked, not magically, but with a lock so complex none of the staff on site could open it. There was discussion of breaking it open, considering the contents could possibly shed light on why precisely the cache existed, but Tjelvar argued against it. There were people who specialised in this kind of thing after all. What with the success of the dig,Tjelvar would have the money to employ a professional.

He took the chest with him back to Paris.

Paris was a mess.

Paris was more than a mess, it was an absolute disaster. Tjelvar had only stopped in to his apartment briefly after the mission to Hannibal’s tomb before they’d asked him to join the dig in Rigaud and there had been growing chaos even then, but now it was practically a warzone, Eiffel’s Folly a smoking crater in its centre and the breakdown of law and order mostly complete.

Tjelvar stopped at his apartment on the Paris outskirts to pick up his mail, almost getting attacked twice on his way (being an orc over six feet tall had its advantages sometimes, most people avoided him even when he wasn’t fully kitted out for a dig, bow and quiver prominent on his back, they didn’t know he spent most of his time in an office up to his eyeballs in paperwork or in the field carefully brushing dirt from the crevices of ancient tablets) and hurried out again, unsure of exactly where he wanted to be, only knowing that it definitely couldn’t be Paris, not right now.

He could make his way back up the mountains, he supposed, back home to his family, who hadn’t seen him for years and probably didn’t much care to. Back to London, to check in at Cambridge and see whether or not there’d been any progress with the Circlet of Command. Or…

Tjelvar stopped at an inn on the road to Calais, exhausted and not a little frightened by the breakdown in Paris. He had a meal - meagre though it was (he’d heard something about the food shortages in the area, but he had some rations left of his own which he shared with the grateful innkeeper) and once he was settled in a room, sorted through his mail.

Various communications from Cambridge, a letter from Frobisher, one from his sister. A short letter from Edward, in his careful, round hand, letting him know that he was finally on the outskirts of Rome. Ed was a regular correspondent, these days, although Tjelvar was somewhat puzzled as to why. Perhaps he was short on friends to write to, a thought that made Tjelvar a little sad, remembering his earnest helpfulness somewhat more fondly now that the responsibility of making sure he didn't kill himself trying to do good was Tjelvar's no longer.

The thick, rich paper of one of the final envelope caught his attention, as did the seal of house Tahan. Interesting. He tried to remember if he had any outstanding loans - there had been that period in the depths of his obsession with Hannibal’s tomb where he had been forced to borrow rather more than he could afford - but there were no final demands written in red on the envelope and it's contents did not otherwise seem suspicious.

What it _ did _contain was a magic scroll and a short note written in an impeccable hand.

_ Monsieur Stornsnasson, _

_ I am writing to inform you of a recent discovery under the main Tahan branch in Cairo. A previously undiscovered tomb was uncovered recently during some unpleasantness with an attempted break in, one that we are told is of great archaeological significance. Whilst this discovery would normally be forwarded to the museum of Cairo, we have encountered some difficulties with criminal elements and believe that discretion concerning the discovery is of the utmost importance. As such, and considering your recent work in the discovery of the tomb of Hannibal, we thought it prudent to secure your expertise in the excavation and exploration of the tomb in question. _

_ In the current climate we understand continental travel is somewhat difficult, and as such have enclosed a message scroll which you can use to contact us should you wish to take us up on this offer. The Tahan family will be happy to arrange transport from your current location, and accommodation and equipment for the duration of your work will, of course, be provided. _

_ Yours, _

_ Saira Al-Tahan. _

A mysterious Egyptian tomb and a contract to work under patronage of one the most prestigious (and wealthy) families in the known world?

Tjelvar tapped the scroll against his lips for a moment, before smiling and gathering his things.


	2. With Stipulations

Tjelvar hadn’t thought much about how the Tahans were going to organise transport for him and his stuff, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated, after a short messaged conversation using the scroll, for a tiny, wild looking man to suddenly appear in his room.

“Hallo!” the man said, enthusiastically enough, holding out one hand. “You must be Tjelvar!”

Tjelvar nodded, slightly bemused. “Yes, er… and… who might you be?”

“Oh, I’m always Einstein!” the man said. “No might about that. Not something you get to change around much, no, the person you are? Unless you’re a shapeshifter I guess, although even then you’re you inside, you know? Not one of those though, just a wizard, helping out some friends, friends are important, especially now.”

“That’s… ah… yes?”

“Right. Good. Great. Do you have everything? Should I wait? Do you need to tell someone where you’re going?”

“No… I ah… I’ve settled the bill. We can go I just… need to...” Tjelvar turned and picked up his pack and his hat, tucked his letters into his jacket pocket, and turned back to Einstein, who was positively vibrating with energy. “Whenever you’re ready.” Tjelvar said.

Einstein grinned, and held out his hands. “Good. Hope you like sand. Lots of it, where we’re going.”

Tjelvar took Einstein’s hands, familiar enough from trips to Prague to know how teleportation worked. “That’s Cairo for you,” Tjelvar said.

“Oh, no it’s so much worse now,” Einstein said, and before Tjelvar could ask him why and how, there was a familiar sucking, inside out feeling, and they were not in France any longer.

They stood in the forecourt of a house, in what should have been a beautifully manicured garden. There were signs that people were attempting to keep it that way, but the heaps of sand gathered here and there against walls and bushes and benches told Tjelvar they were fighting a losing battle. There were some halfling guards at the gate, who waved Tjelvar and Einstein through. “Mistress Saira is in the human wing,” the first said in Arabic. Einstein nodded and bustled forwards towards one of the larger doors in the many doored mansion.

Tjelvar had had cause to visit great houses on many occasions, but privately he thought the Tahan residence was possibly the most elaborate and beautiful he’d ever seen, especially since it was in good repair and not three thousand years old. 

“Just a warning,” Einstein said as they walked, “things haven’t been great, here? The last week or so? I mean things haven’t been great anywhere, we all know that but specifically not great things have happened to the Tahans.”

“What kind of not great things?”

“Oh, well, the eldest Tahan was accused of murder, one of the youngest sons was kidnapped and taken to Rome and the middle son is… sort of… in another dimension? Right now?”

Tjelvar blinked. “I… see. That is… unfortunate.”

“I keep telling Saira it will be okay, Hamid’s a very smart boy, very smart, and a sorcerer! If anyone can survive inter planar kidnapping and time distortion it’s that lad! And he has help! But people do like to look on the bad side of things, you know? Can’t blame them sometimes.” Tjelvar looked at Einstein. It was quite difficult to make out his expression under those incredibly bushy white eyebrows. “Me? I like to keep a positive attitude.”

Tjelvar really didn’t have time to process Einstein’s words before he was led into a quietly sumptuous living area. A neatly put together halfling woman was waiting, looking out the double picture windows. She turned as they entered and Tjelvar saw she had large, kind dark eyes that were tinged with sadness.

“Einstein,” she said, smiling at the tiny man fondly. “Thank you again.”

Einstein waved his hands in the air, cheeks colouring slightly. “Oh, I’m here to help! Whatever I can do, you know?” His face fell a little at that. “The_ least _ I can do.”

The woman smiled sadly and Einstein shuffled out, leaving Tjelvar to twist his hat in his hands. “Ms Tahan,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about your current troubles.”

Saira let out a sigh and passed a hand over her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I have confidence in my brother’s determination but it’s just… been a lot, these last few weeks.”

“Not much news is getting to France right now,” Tjelvar said. “I had no idea things had gotten so bad so… universally.”

Saira motioned for him to take a seat opposite her. “I have to confess that we asked you here less than honestly,” she said. Tjelvar raised an eyebrow. “Oh, there is definitely work for you at the Tahan branch, the tomb remains unexplored and we’d very much like it excavated, but that’s not the only reason we got in contact.”

“Oh?”

Saira motioned to a servant standing at the entrance to the room, who slipped out on some kind of errand. 

“Quite frankly, Mr Stornsnasson, society is at a tipping point. My brother and his friends were investigating something, something vital, and Ishaak’s disappearance has… stalled that investigation by taking them out of consideration.”

The door to the living area opened and two more people entered. A tall man, handsome, flamboyantly dressed, although his hair was rather severely cut and he had deep, dark circles under his eyes, and a severe looking older woman, whose very presence seemed to suck some of the warmth out of the room.

“Tjelvar Stornsasson, may I introduce Oscar Wilde and Marie Curie,” Saira said. “They have a proposition for you.”

#

Tjelvar had applied for enough research grants to be intimately familiar with the type of scrutiny that both Wilde and Curie directed at him once they were seated opposite him. Saira excused herself almost immediately and Tjelvar found himself missing her calm, measured (though melancholy) presence. Wilde leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand as his keen eyes took Tjelvar in and Curie simply sat, straight backed and stone faced.

“We’ll be blunt, Mr Stornsnasson,” Wilde said, once Saira had departed. “We’re in need of help to save the world.”

Tjelvar’s grip on his hat tightened. “Oh. Well that’s hardly my area of expertise, Mr Wilde,” he said. “I’m an archaeologist not a…” his brain completely blanked on something to say for a moment, until the earnest, concerned face of Ed flashed across his mind’s eye, “...paladin.”

Wilde raised an eyebrow. “We’ve had rather an abundance of paladins, these few months,” he said. “And while I am all for doing our best to stay on the good side of any deities who happen to be taking an interest, we would prefer a few of our team to be a little less… aligned.”

“Why me?”

“Your work on Hannibal’s tomb notwithstanding,” Curie said. “You were suggested to us by a recent… recruit.”

“Oh?”

Wilde rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call him a recruit,” he said. 

“He has a skillset that is valuable,” Curie said, but her mouth was pursed and she looked about as happy as Wilde. 

“May I ask whom?”

“Howard Carter,” Wilde said.

“Oh, _ gods,” _ Tjelvar breathed, and by the brief flash of amusement that crossed Wilde’s features Tjelvar understood that these people knew Carter as well as Tjelvar, and had a similar opinion. “He cannot seriously have _ recommended _me?”

Curie glanced at Wilde, who let out a soft laugh. “Precisely the opposite, actually, which is why we contacted you.”

Tjelvar risked a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re not taking anything Carter says at face value. The man is insufferable.”

“We’ve noticed,” Wilde said. “But he is sometimes useful. In any case he mentioned that you may have some expertise when it comes to magical artefacts and to be frank, we’re hurting for…” he paused searching for the right word. “Unaffiliated help.”

Tjelvar raised an eyebrow. “I mean I’m nominally under contract to the la Sorbonne but…”

“Did you get a moment to go there, when you stopped in on your way through?” Wilde said.

Tjelvar swallowed. “No. No I didn’t. I’m guessing…”

“The situation is increasingly grim in Europe, Mr Stornsnasson,” Curie said. “Our current goal is to make certain it does not become as such here as well. Your expertise makes it possible for you to offer your services to the Cairo museum, giving you legitimacy here and making your interactions with Ms Tahan, and by extension, Wilde and myself, attract minimal attention.”

“I’m just… not entirely sure what I can _ do _for you,” Tjelvar said.

Wilde ran his eyes up and down Tjelvar in a manner that, had Tjelvar been a little less intimidated, might have been intriguing. As it was, he felt a little like a piece of meat at market. “Can you use that bow, Mr Stornsasson?”

Tjelvar bristled. “Yes,” he said. 

“Then you’re a damned site more useful than a lot of the other people we have working for us right now,” Wilde said, and Curie put out a hand, lying it on Wilde’s arm.

“What Mr Wilde means,” she said, “is that we are casting our net as wide as it will go right now. And you are a competent, trustworthy person in a world where there are precious few of those at the moment.”

“I’m interested to know why you consider me trustworthy,” Tjelvar said.

“Nominally trustworthy,” Wilde said, and Tjelvar deflated a little, at that. “Obviously we won’t be entrusting you with classified information from the get go, we are at present, simply casting our net a little more widely than we would normally, considering so many we thought we could rely on have proven… less than trustworthy.”

Tjelvar tried not to let the knot of disappointment that was forming in his chest affect his expression. “Well. I’m thankful that you thought of me. Obviously I have a vested interest in society not breaking down around us. And I am grateful to be… removed from the chaos that was Paris. But I would like to… I am…” Tjelvar stopped. Took a deep breath. “This isn’t my area of expertise.”

Wilde’s smile was wider this time, and he leaned forward, reached out to touch Tjelvar’s knee. “No, but saving the world rarely is, is it?”

Tjelvar found he really didn’t have an answer for that.

“Well then. I suppose this can be the beginning of a professional relationship?” he said. Wilde smilled, and Curie nodded and Tjelver held out a hand that was shaken by both of them.

New, bold steps, he thought to himself, and wondered why the conviction he felt was tempered by hollowness.


	3. Unease

Tjelvar was shown to a room in the Tahan residence, simply but elegantly furnished, with a desk approximately three times the size of his desk in Paris, a small sitting area and a bedroom off to one side. It was bigger than any apartment Tjelvar had ever lived in. 

The butler bowed as he showed Tjelvar inside. “Ms Tahan wanted you to know that the Museum of Cairo will offer you your own workplace on site, but should you prefer to work in the privacy of the estate we can arrange to have texts and materials delivered here. In the meantime please make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served in just over an hour.”

Tjelvar thanked the man. He unpacked his bag, setting his bow and his sword on the rack provided and his small collection of clothing and other gear in the copious wardrobe. The chest he had found at the dig in France he set in one corner, cocking his head on one side as he examined it again, trying to find some mechanism to the lock that he might have overlooked, but it was as inscrutable as ever and would have to remain that way until he could find someone capable of opening it.

A thought occurred to him, then, that was as unwelcome as it was irritating.

No. No he wasn’t going to ask.

He refused to ask that man for  _ anything. _

The chest was locked for a reason and Tjelvar was fully capable of finding someone else to deal with it.

#

Seeing Howard Carter in shackles should not have been as satisfying to Tjelvar as it was, but the man had been an offense to the profession of Archaeology for years and he couldn’t help take some satisfaction from the dejected expression on his usually smug face as Oscar Wilde led him into the room he now occupied at Cairo’s meritocratic offices.

“You’re certain you want to take him with you?” Wilde asked.

“He has the right skill set,” Tjelvar said. “Interesting to know that he’s actually using it openly these days.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say he was using it openly,” Wilde said. “He escaped from custody twice before we were able to work out exactly how he was doing it.”

“Yes he keeps the magic under wraps,” Tjelvar said, sighing a little. “Because he’s a terrible person.”

“I’m feeling very judged right now, Tjelvar,” Carter huffed. 

“Good,” Wilde said.

“I thought  _ you _ liked me,” Carter said, pouting. 

“That was before you cost me time and energy,” Wilde said. “I have precious little of either to spare.” Wilde did still look tired, Tjelvar noted, and he wondered if the man had gotten any sleep the night before. Or the night before that, for that matter.

“If I’m going into a tomb do I get these off?” Carter raised his hands.

“Not until you’re there,” Wilde said, turning to Tjelvar and handing him the key to the shackles.

“I should let you know, Mr Wilde,” Tjelvar said, tucking the key into his trouser pocket, then eyeing Carter and moving it to the inside pocket of his waistcoat, “that while I am a capable archer, I’m not exactly the most qualified to guard a criminal under these circumstances. At least not on my own.”

“We’ll send someone down with you for that,” Wilde said. "They’ll meet us at the Tahan branch.”

“Well then, Howard,” Tjelvar said, and Carter got to his feet. 

“Just like old times, Tjelvar,” he said, grinning.

“Gods I hope not,” Tjelvar muttered.

#

Getting to the entrance of the tomb was relatively uncomplicated, the staff in the foyer of the bank seemed to recognise Wilde and waved them up to the interview room. Two figures were seated at a table in the room, a white haired dwarven man and a taller, leaner human. Both stood as they entered.

“This the archaeologist?” The dwarf said and Wilde nodded. 

“Tjelvar Stornsasson, this is Zolf Smith and William Barnes. They’ll be assisting you in the tomb.” The dwarf held out a hand, which Tjelvar shook, and the human did the same. Then they both turned to Carter and gave him an identical look.

“Really?” Carter said. “I thought you had more interesting friends than these Oscar.”

"These are the most interesting of them you'll ever get to meet, Howard," Wilde said. 

Tjelvar chuckled.

#

Tomb exploration was something Tjelvar could do in his sleep. Well. That wasn’t strictly true, although he’d certainly been unconscious in a few. He was familiar with most trap mechanisms and several different types of magical curse, knew the best ways to deal with undead (having a paladin around always helped with that, although apparently Zolf was a cleric, undercover? Or something akin to that? There was definitely a significant lack of religious paraphernalia about the man but he still managed to heal up Barnes after he got whacked by a falling spike trap). 

In any case, it was standard, and it was fascinating, and Tjelvar still felt like something was missing. 

“You look distracted,” Zolf said to him, while the three of them stood back to let Carter deal with a particularly nasty looking trap mechanism.

“Mmmm,” Tjelvar said. 

“Wilde said you used to work with Carter,” he said.

“We were undergraduates together,” Tjelvar said. “He was…”

“Annoying?”

“To put it politely. Skilled, but completely free of the burden of morality.”

They both heard Carter give a small, heartfelt hurrah to himself and the trap collapsed in on itself. “It’s always difficult, working with people who don’t share your values,” Zolf said, and his mouth twisted a little bitterly. “But sometimes you’ve just got to power through, yeah?”

“And what are  _ your _ values, Mr Smith?” Tjelvar said.

The dwarf shrugged. “I’m still working those out, I think,” he said. “But I’ll let you know.”

Just before the burial chamber they were attacked by stone golems. Tjelvar comported himself well enough, although arrows were of very little use when one was dealing with something essentially made out of walls, but the majority of the work was done by Barnes and Zolf, whose glaive glowed red and firey in the darkness as it stabbed through the air. They were brutally efficient, Tjelvar had to admit, toeing the small pile of rubble that was all that was left after a particularly virulent spell from Zolf. Some sort of divine fire, Tjelvar thought, although he hadn’t seen its like before. 

“Well I’m very glad you two gentlemen were accompanying us,” Tjelvar said once they were done. Carter was examining the doors to the burial chamber, having turned away from the battle as soon as it was over.

“Our job,” Barnes said. 

“Indeed.”

“Tjelvar stop gabbing and help me with this translation,” Carter snapped. Tjelvar rolled his eyes at Barnes, who grinned.

#

The burial chamber was everything Tjelvar could have imagined and more. He would have happily stayed down there for days, but they were expected to report back to Wilde and everyone agreed that removing Carter from the area should be a priority. 

Back up at the interview room Carter, with a predictable amount of whining, was taken back to his cell.

“I  _ found  _ this tomb,” he protested, as Barnes rolled his eyes and led him away. “Without my research you wouldn’t even have gotten  _ down  _ here!”

“Perhaps. But you forfeited all your legal rights to salvage when you broke into it, got cursed and caused someone’s death,” Barnes said as he attempted to usher the man out.

“It’s the tomb of Khufu! It’s  _ my  _ discovery and you’re going to hand it over to this… this…”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, Carter,” Barnes said mildly, and Tjelvar decided he liked the man immensely. 

Once they were gone he turned back to Wilde, who had set himself up a kind of office. Tjelvar wondered if he’d checked with the bank before spreading what looked like weeks worth of paperwork over the table. “It’s going to take months to catalogue it all,” Tjelvar said, “I’m going to need staff from the museum, and I’d like to set up a campsite near the main chamber so we don’t have to keep coming up through the tunnels.”

“Anything of obvious use?” Wilde said. 

“There are a great many magical items,” Tjelvar had detected enough magic in the burial chamber to briefly dazzle him. “Although I may need some help cataloguing them. Perhaps Einstein could…?”

“It’s not really his specialty,” Zolf said.

“We’re on the lookout for more casters,” Wilde said. “I can help you somewhat although my time is limited and Zolf here…”

“Happy to do a bit of it,” Zolf said. “If it means this one gets some sleep.” He jerked his head towards Wilde, who cast his eyes to the roof and shook his head fondly.

“Oh it’s no bother for me to do it,” Tjelvar said. “It’s what I’m here for after all.”

Wilde smiled at him, then nodded to Zolf. “We’ll get you set up then,” he said. “And thank you again.”

Tjelvar nodded. 

And here he was. Fully funded, housed and with the pleasant prospect of sorting through and cataloguing some of the most important finds of his generation stretching ahead of him. Any archaeologist would dream of being in his position right now.

So why was he so uneasy?


	4. Infiltration

Tjelvar had always been able to immerse himself in his work. In some ways, he considered the work  _ home,  _ far more so than any of the dingy apartments he’d lived in since coming down from the mountains. Charts and numbers and the feel of ancient artefacts in his hands, the sense of doing what he was  _ good  _ at, all gave him a sense of belonging and rightness.

The camp they’d set up in the tomb was in a room off from the main burial chamber. Tjelvar had a cot and a desk in a tent not dissimilar to the one he had been using in France, a small space for him to work and sleep, although the students from the Museum traipsed in and out happily enough. Most of them chose not to sleep down in the darkness, however, so at night he had the tomb to himself. 

It was peaceful and comforting to him, to be surrounded by history.

He knew the students thought he was creepy. But at this point Tjelvar was beyond caring how he appeared to others, especially to others in his field. They did their work happily enough and didn’t seem to have any problems reporting to an orc, which was better than most of the assistants he’d had on digs in the past, so Tjelvar was free to lose himself in his task.

Wilde would occasionally check in, sometimes with Zolf or Barnes in tow. Tjelvar noticed he looked increasingly distracted and worried. After about a week and a half, he pulled up one of the folding chairs in Tjelvar’s makeshift office and sat, leaning forwards and rubbing his temples.

“Things aren’t going well, up there, then?” Tjelvar asked, setting aside the small cat figurine he’d been examining. 

Wilde shook his head. “No. The weather is getting worse. Cairo is beginning to… empty out. People moving further inland to escape the storms.”

“That’s interesting,” Tjelvar said. “I wouldn’t have thought being inland would…”

“The weather issues are concentrated around bodies of water,” Wilde explained. “Most of the coastal cities have already been… vacated. Cairo just held on a little longer.”

“You’ve been studying them?”

“Mostly Zolf,” Wilde said. “Weather isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“Are you… are you and Curie and the others…?”

“No. Not yet. But I’m afraid your assistants might. And we can’t expect you to risk yourself by staying so if you...” 

Tjelvar shook his head, removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The work will slow down if I don’t have assistants,” he said. “But there’s still so much to do and I don’t…”

Wilde raised his eyebrows. “You’ll stay?”

“You asked me here to do a job, Mr Wilde, I don’t intend to leave until it is done.”

“Well. There is an option to get you some extra help, but I’m not sure you’ll like it very much.”

Tjelvar raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting…?”

Wilde held up his hands. “He would be wearing anti magic shackles, and under guard at all times.”

Tjelvar sighed. “He’d be more useful if he  _ could _ use his magic,” he said, wearily. 

“He is very good at escaping, but to be frank if he had a chance to work down here he probably wouldn’t want to. I wouldn’t suggest it, but our forces are spread very thin at present and we’ve had no word out of Europe for weeks.”

Tjelvar chewed at the inside of his cheek then shrugged. “Bring him down then,” he said. 

Wilde gave Tjelvar a knowing smile. “I have every confidence you’ll be able to handle him, Mr Stornsnasson.”

#

Carter, as it turned out, was actually very useful indeed. He was adept at translation, and enthusiastic enough about the work that Tjelvar could almost forget how much he disliked the man.

“What did he do, any way?” Barnes asked him one afternoon. He and Zolf shared Carter's guard duties, although every now and then both were absent on some other business. In those cases there were a few guards from the Tahan branch, men and women in official looking Meritocratic uniforms, who would stand silently next to Carter as he worked.

Tjelvar much preferred when it was Barnes or Zolf, although Barnes was more relaxed and chatty than the dwarf tended to be.

Tjelvar was sipping tea. “Mmm?”

“Why do you two… not get along?”

Tjelvar shook his head. “Professional differences notwithstanding, he stole a paper of mine, at university. Passed it off as his own.”

“Hmmmm,” Barnes said.

“He was perfectly capable of writing his own,” Tjelvar said, the old resentment stirring in his gut. “And we’d been friends, before it happened.” He swirled tea around in the bottom of his mug, then shrugged. “Cost me a full year of work, a great deal of money in tuition fees, and a good hunk of my reputation, attempting to prove to the University board that I had been plagerised and not Carter.” He grimaced and downed the last of his tea. “They chose to believe Carter. I’m certain it wasn’t  _ entirely _ because his family has more money than mine.”

He’d not been kicked out, but it had been a close thing, and his name had been tainted ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Barnes said.

“What’s done is done,” Tjelvar said. “And to be frank I was never going to be welcomed into the archaeological community with open arms, no matter how well I did.” 

“How so?”

Tjelvar spread his hands. His large, grey skinned, orcish hands. “They do all seem to think I’ll break their precious artefacts as soon as touch them,” he said. Barnes raised an eyebrow and nodded in understanding. “Once I found the first leads to Hannibal’s tomb, though, I stopped worrying so much about what they thought and started worrying about what I wanted to do. It’s been a lot better, since then.”

“You found the tomb, right?” Barnes said. “Wilde mentioned something about it.”

Tjelvar smiled, remembering the moment he’d solved the trial of Herakles, remembering Newton’s letter, remembering Eddie and the damned snow leopard. “I did. Although it was less glorious than we’d anticipated. Certainly not as glorious as this. And we weren’t the first.”

Why, then, did he find himself yearning for it? Yearning for the simplicity of it? Wanting to be back there in the biting cold with nothing but his wits and his intuition…

… and Eddie and Bertie, of course. 

“I was sorry to hear about Sir Betrand,” Barnes said then. “Not exactly the… most sympathetic of men, but he could be very useful at times.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sir Bertrand? He died in Prague, with all that nasty business with the necromancer…”

Tjelvar blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Oh my, I had no idea. News doesn’t travel well at all at present, does it?”

Barnes nodded and sighed. “True.”

Tjelvar wondered how Eddie was doing, in Rome now. There hadn’t been a letter from him for a good while, the one he’d found in Paris had been dated several weeks back.

A small knot of worry lodged itself in Tjelvar’s chest. 

#

That evening, Tjelvar took out Ed’s last letter and had a look over it. It was short - most of Ed’s letters were. He described the cult of Mars guards he’d encountered at the border  _ (I don’t like them much, Tjelvar. You’d think with so much evil in Rome they could do more than just stand outside and stop it from leaving.)  _ There was a description of the ruins themselves, although Ed seemed a little confused about them, not that Tjelvar could blame him considering he seemed to be attempting to describe Rome from several miles outside of it. He signed off with  _ I should be back in England before the end of the month. _

Paris had been such a mess, and from what Tjelvar could gather England was just as bad right now. The knot of worry in Tjelvar’s stomach grew to a heavy stone, and he tucked the letter away again with a pang. There was nothing he could do from here. Ed was in good hands, Frederick would look after him, and he was capable enough to get back from Rome in one piece.

#

Tjelvar woke the next morning to find Carter in his tent, examining the chest he’d brought from France.Tjelvar sat up with a grunt and Carter turned to him, looking not at all guilty.

“You know I could probably open that,” he said. 

“It’s locked for a reason, Howard,” Tjelvar said, pulling on a shirt. 

“There’s time magic on it, did you know that?”

Tjelvar raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I can’t work out the spell, but something is definitely going on with time in there. It could be an important magical artefact.”

“Possibly,” Tjelvar said. “But there are  _ definitely  _ important magical artefacts out there in the tomb. Artefacts that are  _ not  _ in my private quarters. That we’ve been employed to catalogue. Remember?”

“They’re not actually paying me, you know,” Carter said, but he started to back out of the tent.

#

They were down to two assistants, but with Carter’s help they were making good progress. Tjelvar was working on translating the hieroglyphs on the far wall of the chamber, something he didn’t get a great deal of time to spend on considering that cataloguing the magical artefacts was priority, but Tjelvar was intrigued at the historical implications of what they said about Khufu’s reign and life before the rule of the Meritocrats, so he took a little time out of every day to spend on it. It was quiet and dark and peaceful in the tomb, and Tjelvar lost himself in the rhythm of the work, so much so that when the commotion started at the door it took him some time to even register.

He finally became aware of it when Carter called to him. “Tjelvar, we have visitors.”

Tjelvar got up, dusting his knees and looking over to the doorway to find Zolf and Barnes, fully armed and looking grim.

“What’s going on?” Tjelvar asked.

“Nothing good,” Zolf said.

#

It had been so long since Tjelvar had spent any time outside of the tomb that he was shocked to find Cairo in the grips of another sandstorm. Conversation was impossible with the whipping of the wind and the sand, and the trip back to the Tahan residence (via camel, which was also interesting to Tjelvar) was deeply unpleasant. More unpleasant, however, was the scattering of corpses across the front gardens.

“What happened?” Tjelvar asked, horrified.

“People started to turn on us,” Zolf said, and his voice was far more grim than Tjelvar had ever heard it. “They… they’re not themselves any longer. Something…” Zolf took a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. Some sort of infection, we think.”

He gave Tjelvar a sympathetic look. “All the people who turned had come from Europe in the last week. We’re… instigating quarantine protocols. Just in case.”

“What does that entail?” Tjelvar said.

“I’m sorry, Tjelvar,” Barnes said. “If it’s any consolation, both Zolf and myself  _ and  _ Wilde will be joining you. We’re almost certain we’re past the period where the infection manifests but we can’t be absolutely sure.”

“Oh dear,” Tjelvar said. They passed another corpse near the door, the body of someone Tjelvar recognised. Johann, Tjelvar thought, one of his assistants. He’d come to Cairo from France, fleeing the chaos and looking for work, at least that’s what he’d said to Tjelvar in the few conversations they’d had.

He gaped for a moment before he noticed, on the back of Johann’s hand, a fine web of blue lines snaking up and under the sleeve of his shirt. Tjelvar blinked and turned to Zolf, who nodded. “That’s how it manifests,” he said. “They start showing the blue lines, then…” he shrugged. “Earhart brought eighteen recruits over from France last week and they all turned at once. Tried to kill Curie. Took out… a lot of ours.” Zolf swallowed. “We think it was coordinated so they’d catch us by surprise but we can’t be certain about anyone, not now. So. Physical inspections for all of us, and quarantine for those of us who’ve left Cairo in the last month. I’m… I am sorry, Tjelvar.”

“It seems like a warranted precaution, Mr Smith,” Tjelvar said. 

Zolf nodded again. “I’m glad you understand.”

#

It was after that, that  _ everything _ started to go wrong.


	5. All Right?

Even now, at the end of the world, with society collapsing in gentle trickles like the fall of sand Tjelvar preferred to spend most of his free time in the tomb. It was lonely there, absolutely, but it was also familiar, and there was still work to be done, even if Tjelvar didn’t get a lot of time to do it. He didn’t have a great deal to do at the Tahan house, although he had a talent for logistics and paperwork so he was certainly not left with nothing, but he did feel a little at a loose end. He wasn’t inconspicuous enough to do under cover work. He wasn’t an adventuring type, either, not in the way that Zolf and Barnes were, not in the way that Ed had been either, really. He could shoot a bow and he could catalogue artefacts and he could cast the occasional spell to help him do both of those things, but when it came down to fighting a war… 

Tjelvar wasn’t a soldier.

He missed being out in the field. Missed the open sky and the woods and the sun on the back of his neck and the feeling of dirt under his fingers, but there wasn’t much call for archaeology these days. 

Getting to and from the tomb was difficult, and he often had to fight his way through sandstorms to do it. Curie also wasn’t keen on letting him wander around alone - the policy of pairing up agents wasn’t as strictly enforced in Cairo, considering how well guarded they were, but Tjelvar knew that it was only a matter of time before she told him he wasn’t to leave the house unaccompanied, and the chances of any of the other staff wanting to take the trip through the storms to the tomb as often as Tjelvar would like to were slim to none.

So he lingered there when he could, running his fingers over the carved reliefs, occasionally sorting through some of the remaining artefacts. He’d moved all of his things back to his room at the Tahan house, a room he often shared with other agents although right at the moment he had it to himself, but the tomb felt more like home to him. Ironic, that a place of death, of burial, a place of _ ending, _could represent for Tjelvar hope for the future, be representative of the world that he desperately wanted to save.

It was nearly a year since he’d come to Cairo, and the city was empty now. A ghost of a town, something future archaeologists would dig up and be puzzled by. Tjelvar couldn’t help running through what a future archaeologist might think, finding the dusty ruins of this place a thousand years from now. A well trained archaeologist would know that the people had departed before the city had decayed. He imagined the papers he would have to mark, in this future university. The absurd student theories. _ “Speculations on the Apparent Abandonment of Nile Settlement Alpha: A discussion.” _

They would probably all get it wrong.

He wasn’t sure he liked being in a place that someone in the future would study. 

A shudder went through him, as he walked up the path to the door of the house, as he wondered if the people who replaced them, the people they were fighting so hard against, would even care enough to try.

There was something of a commotion inside the house, folk rushing to and fro, staff with grim looks on their faces. It was familiar enough for Tjelvar to guess what was going on, and he snagged a running halfling by the arm, gently. “What’s happening?”

“Master Hamid’s returned!” the halfling said, and Tjelvar remembered that this woman had been a servant to the house, before everything started to fall apart. “Einstein brought him back, with so many others!”

Tjelvar let her go, blinking in surprise. Einstein had_ insisted _ that Hamid and the others weren’t dead. That the Tahan sorcerer and _ Ed _and the hostages that had been taken to manipulate them were simply trapped in a plane where time moved differently, but like much of what Einstein said, it was taken with a grain of salt, and Tjelvar had long since forgotten that it was even feasible for them to return.

Certainly Wilde and Zolf and Curie had dismissed Einstein’s story, although they had indulged him in his desire to continually check up on where he believed they would return in Rome. Not that they could have stopped him from that, when it boiled down to it, Einstein was wilful and able to teleport out of most arguments, something Tjelvar suspected he did with rather more planning and foresight than a lot of people believed him capable.

But if Hamid and the others were back, that meant that there was a possibility that _ Ed _ was back, and Tjelvar found himself moving with purpose towards Marie Curie’s office with more confidence than he would have thought possible, and knocking firmly on the door.

“Come in.”

Tjelvar entered, and almost immediately regretted the impulse to come in the first place. Curie sat behind her desk, haggard looking (as they all tended to be these days) but Tjelvar couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were red-rimmed. 

Eldarion had been with Hamid and his people, Tjelvar remembered, and cursed himself for a fool. 

“Mr Stornsnasson,” she said. “Something to report?”

“Ah, no, ma’am. Nothing on my part. But I heard outside that Master Hamid and his… er… friends have returned?”

Curie let out a deep sigh. “Not all of them,” she said, softly, but shook her head as though to clear it. “Yes. Einstein brought them in this morning. Rather against protocol, I’m afraid. We did try to reach you but I understand you were at the tomb again?”

Tjelvar swallowed and nodded. “My apologies,” he said.

“Your work there is still valuable, Tjelvar,” Curie said. “We can’t let ourselves lose sight of the bigger picture, after all.”

“I appreciate that you’ve let me continue,” Tjelvar said. “But the… people Einstein brought back? How are they…”

Curie sucked in a breath. “I’ve sent Hamid and Azu on to Wilde in Japan,” she said. “They’ll be most useful there.”

“You’re… sure they’re not…?”

“Wilde will quarantine them. He’s meticulous that way. In the meantime we’re housing the others in the cells.”

“Was… er…” Tjelvar hesitated. Swallowed. “Was there another paladin with them? Ed… Edward Keystone? Einstein mentioned that he was with… that he’d helped them out. In Rome.”

Curie blinked. “Oh, he was the paladin who accompanied you on the Hannibal expedition, wasn’t he?”

Tjelvar nodded. “He’s… my friend.”

One of Curie’s eyebrows raised, so small a movement that Tjelvar could almost believe that he’d imagined it.

“He was with them, yes. We thought it best he not go to Japan, however. He does rather… stand out.”

Tjelvar’s lip twitched in something approaching a smile. “I should go and check in with him.”

Curie’s face softened a little. “You might want to wait, Mr Stornsnasson,” she said. “It does no one any good to harbour false hope, you know that as well as any of us.”

Tjelvar swallowed. “If it is Edward he’ll be very confused. He deserves to know he has friends here.”

Curie just looked at him. _ If it is Edward. _That was the whole point, wasn’t it? 

He hadn’t even known Ed for more than a few days. Been royally irritated by him for most of that time, if Tjelvar could be honest. His short letters had been heartfelt and honest, though, in much the same way Ed had been. 

The thought of him going dead eyed and blue veined made something shift in Tjelvar’s stomach, an uneasy sickening lurch. If Ed could _ not be Ed _then nothing on Earth could ever be stable again.

“You know the risks,” Curie said, finally, and Tjelvar nodded. 

#

There were a limited number of places in Cairo one could set up an effective quarantine area and unfortunately the most appropriate of them was the meritocratic prison. Carter had been in residence there for most of his time in Cairo, until he’d finally been handed over to Barnes as his partner and shipped off to Japan to work with Wilde and Zolf, and now it housed those the Harlequins deemed at risk of infection.

It had taken them a month or two, to work out the incubation period. Somewhere between five and seven days, never longer, occasionally shorter. No one had been able to work out how it was transmitted, although the theory was that it was ingested, but the consensus was that it was not, thankfully, airbourne, so Tjelvar was allowed into the cells to see Edward and his friends.

They were broken up into two groups. The first cell held an orc, a gnome and a goblin, the second, a halfling boy and...

Edward.

Edward didn’t see him at first, because he was sitting on a cot, earnestly talking to the halfling boy, describing something about Apollo, Tjelvar guessed, from the animated expression on his face. The Tahan boy was cross legged on the floor in front of him, smiling up at Ed and nodding every now and then. Tjelvar never would have thought that Ed would be good with children, but it made sense, really. Children wouldn’t judge him the way Bertie and Frederick had. _ The way Tjelvar had. _ He was big and he was beautiful and he was kind, and that really was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

He looked older, though. Thinner. There are shadows under his eyes and rough stubble on his cheeks and he wasn’t wearing his armor and Tjelvar remembered he’d been in some other dimension for _ months _and now he was stuck in prison for a week and…

_ If he even was Ed, _Tjelvar reminded himself. 

It was hard to keep that in the forefront of his mind and Tjelvar couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Curie had been right. Perhaps it would have been better not to come down. 

He’d almost made up his mind to turn back, satisfied at least that whatever was in the cell _ looked _ like Ed, had the _ potential _to be Ed, that perhaps in a week he could come down and shake Ed’s hand and reconnect with someone he’d genuinely thought was lost, but before he could move a voice piped up.

“Who are you?” it was the goblin who spoke, tiny and green skinned, with sharp, knowing eyes. 

“Hello,” he said, and Ed looked up in surprise at the sound of his voice. “I’m here to see Edward, actually.”

“Tjelvar?” Ed stood up, and the boy - Ishaak, Tjelvar remembered, scooted back as Ed came to the bars.

“One of your friends from the church, Ed?” the orc man said, a rough edge to his voice that made Tjelvar raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, Emeka,” Ed said, and he sounded overjoyed. “Tjelvar’s not with the church. He’s a friend from before.”

“Before Rome,” Emeka, said. He still sounded skeptical. 

“Yeah,” Ed said. “You’re okay then, Tjelvar? I wanted to ask about you but they didn’t really give us much time and every time I tried they told me to just wait and see.”

“I’m fine, Eddie,” Tjelvar said. “I just wanted to check on you. See if you needed anything.”

Ed glanced down at Ishaak, then back up at Tjelvar and shrugged. “It’s not that nice down here, but we’re in good company. And they said it’s only for a few days. But Ishaak’s a little bit young to be...?” _ In a cell like a criminal. _

Tjelvar didn’t want to tell Ed that some of the people who had come back had been children. Ed didn’t need to know how terrible _ that _had been. Instead, he nodded. “Once Einstein’s rested he’ll bring Ishaak’s family here,” he said, then focused on Ishaak again. “You understand why you’re being kept locked up?”

Ishaak rolled his eyes. “Of course I do, I’m not _ stupid.” _

“It’s like we’re sick, yeah?” Ed said, rubbing one hand through his hair. “They had us go to a town with plague, back when I was in training with the church.” Ed’s open face darkened a little. “It took us a couple of days to get there and by the time we had a lot of people were dead. But they’d tried to lock the infected up so they didn’t infect other people. It… kind of worked? But they didn’t do it very well and the people who were sick were… really, _ really _ sick by the time we got there.”

“That’s not how it works here, Ed,” Tjelvar said. “I promise you’ll be treated well and let out as soon as you’re cleared.”

Ed nodded, although he still didn’t look happy. There really wasn’t anything to be happy about in this situation, Tjelvar supposed.

“This is a _ waste _ of _ time, _” the goblin said, and Tjelvar saw the gnome reach out and touch their arm.

“It’s all right Veseek,” the gnome said. “Hamid and Azu will work out what happened to the others. And we can keep ourselves busy.” The gnome looked up at Tjelvar, and Tjelvar could see a deep sadness behind his eyes. “Do you think you could bring us something to pass the time?” 

Tjelvar nodded. “I’m pretty sure I can arrange that,” he said. “I know it’s a lot to take in. The world is very different and I’m… I’m really sorry we can’t afford to trust you.” 

He was speaking to all of them, but he looked at Ed when he said it.

“It’s all right, Tjelvar,” Ed said. 

It wasn’t though. Or it wouldn’t be for seven days.

“I’ll come back down soon,” Tjelvar said.


	6. Better

On the second day Saira arrived, looking far more careworn than she had on their first meeting, a year ago. She was cautious, naturally, and Tjelvar couldn’t help but hurt for what she must be going through.

“Mother couldn’t bear it,” she said softly, when they met in the station offices. “If it turns out this isn’t Ishaak… if it turns out Hamid is... “

There was a point at which the spirit would snap, Tjelvar thought to himself, from too much uncertainty. Saira was a strong woman and had already been through too much.

“I’m sorry,” he said, helplessly. She passed a hand over her eyes.

“We can’t leave him here,” she said. “If there’s even the remotest chance it  _ is _ Ishaak that would be unforgivable. But  _ gods.  _ I wish Hamid hadn’t  _ left. Again.” _

Tjelvar put out a hand and gently squeezed her arm in wordless sympathy. “If it’s any consolation he didn’t get a great deal of choice in that,” he said. “From what I understand Wilde insisted.”

Saira’s lips thinned. “And we cannot deny  _ him  _ anything,” she said.

Wilde had been long gone when the Tahans finally left Cairo, but Tjelvar knew there was resentment there, that her little brother could be so wrapped up in meritocratic business without Saira’s knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Tjelvar said again. Saira patted his hand on her arm. 

“It’s not your fault, Tjelvar,” she said, then took a deep breath. 

Inside, they found Ishaak deep in conversation with Veseek. Ed was sitting crosslegged in the corner of his cell, and Tjelvar felt a slight twinge of sadness when he realised his gaze was fixed squarely on the small window in the wall of the cell, the only window in the room that admitted sunlight.

Ishaak jumped to his feet as soon as he saw Saira, grinning. “Sai! Sai!” Tjelvar felt Saira pause for a moment and take a big breath. 

“Hi little dragon,” she said. “Let’s get you out of here, huh?”

“I’m supposed to be under quarantine,” Ishaak said. 

“I know,” Saira said. “But I’ll take care of you while you are.”

Veseek nodded encouragement to Ishaak and Ed turned his head away from the window and gave the boy a smile. 

“We’ll be all right, Ishaak,” Ed said. “And we’ll see you when we’re all okay.”

Ishaak didn’t look happy about that but also didn’t seem to be able to find a way to object when the guard walked forward to unlock the cell door. Tjelvar didn’t fail to notice that there were three more guards than usual in the room for this transfer, and all of them had their hands on their weapons when the door swung open.

He had a moment to think that it was possible not even three of them together could take Ed down, if he’d chosen this moment to expose himself as corrupted, but Ed didn’t get up, hands resting loosely in his lap (easily seen) as he nodded to Ishaak.

Ishaak hesitated a moment, then threw his tiny arms around Ed’s neck and hugged him fiercely. With Ed sitting on the ground, Ishaak was pretty much the same height and Ed’s hand came up to awkwardly pat the boy on the back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ed said. “We’ll be okay. You’ve just gotta be brave like Apollo would want, right? Your sister will look after you.”

“Thank you for coming after us,” Ishaak said, his voice muffled against Ed’s neck. Tjelvar saw Ed swallow as Ishaak stopped hugging him and went to Saira. The guards relocked the cell and Saira led Ishaak away, leaving Tjelvar the awkward witness to far too many heartfelt emotions for one morning.

Once the door was locked Ed got to his feet. 

“I brought some books,” Tjelvar said, suddenly nervous. “And some games - I know the deck of cards that was down here is missing some… there was an incident with the…” Tjelvar stopped. Ed didn’t need to know what had happened to that particular prisoner. “Here.” He handed them through the bars, trying not to look too closely at the skin on Ed’s hand as he took them, wondering whether the blue veins would start somewhere easily visible the way they had with some, or whether they would only show in the daily inspections. Inspections that Tjelvar would not be here for, he promised himself.

“Thanks Tjelvar,” Ed said, glancing at the titles of the books. It was difficult to find much in English in Cairo these days, but Tjelvar had brought a few of his own volumes. The chance that Ed would be interested in the essays on Hannibal considering his heritage (not because two of them were written by Tjelvar) was slim, but the two new Harrison Campbell novels might interest  _ some  _ of them.

“It can get boring down here,” Tjelvar said. 

“You’re telling me,” Veseek said. “Do we really have to stay here for seven days? It’s such a waste of  _ time.” _

“I’m…”  _ sorry.  _ There weren’t any more ways to say the same thing, Tjelvar thought mournfully, and Veseek’s big red eyes bored into him like swords. Tjelvar sighed. He shouldn’t have come down here. Curie had been right. “I have to go,” he said, glancing away from Ed’s hurt look, Veseek’s steady accusatory glare, Emeka’s raised eyebrow. The only person in the room who didn’t seem to be judging him was the gnome - Bi Ming, Einstein had called him, but Tjelvar got the impression it was because he was too caught up in his own grief.

Tjelvar swallowed. He’d made his mistake and he’d have to stick to it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and, like a coward, he fled.

#

He made the trip to the cells every day. It didn’t get any easier.

#

On the seventh day Tjelvar was getting ready in his room when there was a knock at his door.

He paused, about to button his waistcoat. It was silly of him, he knew, to keep to the forms of dress he’d learned at university amidst all the chaos, but it was difficult to let go of the anxiety about appearances. He needed to not be seen as an Orc first. He needed to make a good impression otherwise his work would not be taken seriously. So he dressed immaculately, he spoke impeccably, he wore the coat of respectability that they wanted from him.

It had become habit, and in these times, habit was one of the things that kept the thread of reality steady.

“Come in,” Tjelvar said and the door opened to reveal Ed standing there, arms full of armor and gear. “Ed! I didn’t think you were getting out until later…”

“Veseek timed it,” Ed said. “They’re  _ really  _ good with keeping track. Any way they tried to keep us for longer but Veseek wouldn’t be quiet about it so in the end Marie Curie came down and let us out.” He shrugged, and smiled, and Tjelvar found himself smiling back, something unknotting in his chest. 

“I’m glad you’re all right, Ed,” he said.

“Yeah me too!” Ed said.

Tjelvar nodded at his things. “Did they assign you a room?” 

“Uh, yeah. For now. I was going to go to the church but apparently there’s only a couple of us left in the city and the temple’s been locked up and without Frederick they… they don’t want me to…”

Tjelvar’s lips thinned. “Well.  _ We _ can definitely use you here,” Tjelvar said, and Ed smiled again. 

“I asked if I could stay with you,” he said. “If… if that’s okay?”

Tjelvar blinked. Of course. He’d been an idiot. “Oh, I’m… I didn’t think…” he stepped back and let Ed come the rest of the way into the room. “Of course it’s okay!”

The room was different to how it had been when Tjelvar had first been assigned it. The opulent four poster bed had been taken away and three smaller, single beds had taken its place. The desk was shoved into a corner and the wardrobe held not only Tjelvar’s clothes but bits and pieces of weaponry and gear that various other tenants had left when they’d departed for missions. Some of them had returned. Some of them had not.

Ed came in and busied himself with putting away his gear. Tjelvar noticed that his clothes were worn and his armor had lost some of its sheen. 

“You must have had a hard time of it, in Rome,” he said.

“Oh Rome is the  _ worst,”  _ Ed said. “So much evil. And frogs. And evil frogs, at least Hamid said they were probably evil. And Apollo doesn’t work there so it was… lonely as well, at least until the others found me.”

“What happened to Frederick?” Tjelvar asked.

Ed’s face fell. “I lost him,” he said, softly. “When I went past the Mars blockade. I don’t know. He was supposed to be next to me and then he wasn’t and…” Ed rubbed a hand through his hair. “Marie Curie said that the temple here in Cairo doesn’t know where he is but communication has broken down a lot so they can’t be sure.” He finished putting his armor away and sat on one of the beds. Tjelvar sat opposite him. “It’s all gone wrong, Tjelvar, hasn’t it?” Ed said then, and Tjelvar’s heart clenched in his chest. It had been bad enough for the rest of them, living through the changes, but to Ed it was all new. “It’s like… the world got broken while I was gone.”

“We’re trying to fix it,” Tjelvar said. “It’s just… more complicated than we thought it would be.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Ed said. “I was worried when Hamid and Azu left that I wouldn’t know  _ anyone  _ here.”

“It’s good to have you back,” Tjelvar said, no longer surprised at how true that was for him. “A lot of the time when people come back it doesn’t go well.”

“Yeah, that’s… it’s really weird. And bad. Bad and weird. But Hamid and Azu are going to find out what’s going on and then they’ll fix it, right?”

“That’s what we’re hoping,” Tjelvar said.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Or at least it was uncomfortable for Tjelvar, Ed just seemed… still.

“We should get you some new clothes and any other gear you might need,” Tjelvar said finally. 

Ed plucked at his shirt, and gave a huff of laughter. “Okay,” he said.

“Then if Curie will let me I’ll take you to see the tomb I’ve been excavating. Unless she finds something else for you to do.”

“Oh she told us we could do whatever we wanted today,” he said. “There’s a tomb?”

“Yes!” Tjelvar said. “It’s why I was brought here, originally. Before everything started going wrong. More wrong. But it’s fascinating.”

“I’d like to see it,” Ed said, apparently sincerely, and Tjevlar felt a surge of warmth in his gut. Ed was so open and  _ good.  _ He was exactly what they needed, right now, truly, and Tjelvar hoped against hope that his arrival was a sign that things were going to get better.


	7. Unlocked

Tjelvar seemed happy enough to see him, happy enough to let Ed room with him, even. It was odd, considering how most of the other paladins at the temple had reacted to the prospect of sharing quarters with him, but there were so many odd things happening. The usual feeling of not belonging was pretty strong though, despite Tjelvar’s welcome - natural, really, since he wasn’t just out of place any more, wandering the streets of Rome, he was out of  _ time  _ and  _ that  _ was almost impossible to get his head around, that the world had moved on without him.

Of course, he’d thought he’d lost Apollo there, for a while as well, and the joy at having that connection back outweighed a lot of the other weird stuff that was going on. 

From what Ed could gather, people were sick, but they weren’t just sick in their bodies, they were sick in their minds. Ed really wanted to be able to see someone who was sick that way, find out if he could ask Apollo to help them. Apollo could  _ do  _ that, sometimes, when it wasn’t just the world that was making someone sad, when it was something to do with the things their bodies needed, the best healers could help them get through a rough patch, give them the boost they needed to keep going. Ed hadn’t ever been allowed to try it, though.

There were just too many things to think about, and Ed was good at setting things that confused him to one side and trusting that Apollo would sort it out if it was important. He could think about it later, when he had more time, and Tjelvar was asking him to go and visit a tomb and he found that he was interested in that, in seeing more of Tjelvar’s work. Perhaps this time he’d get to actually go inside.

“There aren’t any trials or anything for this one, are there?” Ed asked as they made their way to the Tahan branch. 

Tjelvar gave him a smile. It was a nice smile, Ed thought to himself. He couldn’t remember seeing it before. “There were traps, but no, no trial. It’s not like Hannibal’s at all, really, the main reason this tomb hadn’t been found was because of where it was. No one expected there to be a tomb directly under the bank.”

“Bit weird of them, to build a building on top of a grave.”

“Absolutely,” Tjelvar said, and he seemed enthusiastic about that. “I’ve got a few theories on why that happened, actually, considering the wealth of treasure and information in the tomb itself…”

Ed found it easy to listen to Tjelvar’s voice, and oddly fascinating as well. Ed had never been much of a reader, which had frustrated his tutors, but he loved talking to people, especially when the people he was talking to were interested in him, or interested in what he was saying. Usually he only found that happened when he spoke about Apollo, but Tjelvar’s enthusiasm for archaeology was kind of similar, when he thought about it, and his discussion of ancient Egyptian kings and their habits was a bit like an adventure story.

Down at the makeshift camp Tjelvar showed Ed how he’d been cataloguing the artefacts. Ed was turning a stone carved cat over in his hands, wondering at how lifelike it was, when he caught a glimpse of something in the corner, on one of the worktables.

“What’s that?” he asked Tjelvar, who glanced over at the chest.

“Oh, that’s not from the tomb,” Tjelvar said. “We found it in France, just before I got the letter to come here. No one’s been able to open it.”

Ed carefully put down the cat and walked to the chest, unsure exactly why it was so fascinating to him. He put out a hand and felt a light buzz of something in his skin.

“There’s magic on it,” Tjelvar said, “but we’re short on casters at the moment here, and Wilde said it wasn’t any school he was familiar with. Carter said he could try to pick the lock but I don’t trust him to…”

Ed placed both palms on either side of of the lock.

There was a soft, distinct, click.

“It’s open,” Ed said and Tjelvar came up beside him. 

“Gods Ed, how did you do that?”

Ed shrugged. “Apollo wanted it to open, I think? It feels… right?” he looked up to see Tjelvar studying him, head tilted to one side. 

“We didn’t factor in any divine influence,” Tjelvar said. “Although I’ve never heard of gods opening locks for people before.”

Ed shrugged again. “Me neither, but it might have been in one of the lessons I can’t remember.”

Tjelvar glanced down at the chest, then back up at Ed. “Do you want to open it?”

“It’s open now, so I suppose we should?”

“Okay then. Just be… careful. It’s very old. Not as old as what’s in here, but still, if whatever is inside is fragile we’ll have to be very careful.”

Ed nodded and lifted the lid.

#

Tjelvar had speculated so much on what might be inside the chest that he thought he couldn’t possibly be surprised at its contents, but there was no way he could possibly have anticipated this.

“It’s a bow,” Ed said, and Tjelvar was shaking his head. He could feel magic dissipating around them, some kind of preservation spell which had kept the contents of the chest (and the chest itself, Tjelvar realised) in pristine condition. 

“It can’t be,” he said.

“No really, it’s a bow, look…” Ed reached down and gently picked the weapon out of the chest. It was too small for a human, Tjelvar noticed, almost hysterically. Too small for a human and  _ utterly impossible.  _ The bow wasn’t all that was in the chest, however. Underneath it was an adamantium dagger, also too small for a human. And a thick wad of parchment, addressed in spiky handwriting to  _ Hamid Saleh Haroun Al-Tahan. _

“Oh weird,” Ed said. “Why would there be a letter for Hamid in here? I thought you said this was old?”

Tjelvar swallowed. “We need to take this to Curie,” he said. “Right now.”


	8. Mail

Ed hadn’t minded Curie the first time he’d met her, even though she’d asked him to strip off in front of her. It honestly hadn’t been the weirdest thing in his life someone had asked him to do, and Hamid and Azu had seemed to trust her enough. Ed was used to trusting other people, especially when said other people had fought evil alongside him, and Curie reminded him a little bit of his mother, not in a bad way, just in a way that made him feel safe that she was in charge.

Tjelvar obviously respected her as well, and he smoothed his hair before knocking on her office door, Ed behind him with the chest in his arms.

“Come in.”

She looked tired, was the first thing Ed thought. He remembered when they’d first arrived, the way she had blanched when Hamid told her about Eldarion, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her even as she gave them both a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Edward. Good to see you’re out and about. Tjelvar’s found some work for you?”

“I’m just helping out,” Ed said. “Where ever you need me.”

“I thought you were going down to the tomb today?” Curie said, focusing her attention onto Tjelvar now. Ed couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to have her gaze directed somewhere other than at him, but Tjelvar motioned for him to step forward and put the chest on her desk.

“Something’s happened,” Tjelvar said. “Something impossible. More impossible. Eddie can you open the chest?”

Ed did as he was asked, and Tjelvar excitedly pulled out the bow and the dagger. Curie raised an eyebrow at the items, looking confused.

“This chest was found in final layer of a dig I was on in France. It’s more than two thousand years old.” Curie blinked, glancing at the bow again. 

“Yes?”

Tjelvar looked frustrated, as though Curie should have made the connection on her own. Ed was as bemused as Curie looked, even as Tjelvar held the bow out again, then reached into the chest to take out the dagger.

“Look,” he said. “Look at the workmanship on the bow, on the dagger. These are  _ modern  _ weapons. There’s no way they could possibly be in this chest, no way they could possibly have been where they were…”

Curie’s eyes cleared a little in understanding and Ed blinked. “Couldn’t the chest have been planted there by…”

“No, no no no, no the artefacts surrounding it were all authenticated not to mention I would stake my reputation that the site hadn’t been disturbed, no one could have gotten down there since it was sealed, no one at  _ all.  _ And well, I mean, aside from all of that there’s this…”

He pulled out the envelope and handed it to Curie whose eyebrows lifted even higher.

“What…?” She turned the envelope over in her hands, then reached for a letter opener that lay on her desk. Ed blinked, then gently placed his hand on hers. 

“Uh, no,” he said, and heard Tjelvar draw in a sharp breath.

Curie pulled her hand out from under Ed’s without picking up the letter opener. “Excuse me?” she said.

“You can’t do that,” he said. 

_“Excuse_ me?”

“The letter isn’t addressed to you, ma’am,” he said. “With respect, it’s addressed to Hamid. We should take it to him.”

Curie glanced at Tjelvar and Ed looked to him as well, Tjelvar was watching Ed, a small smile that Ed didn’t really understand on his lips.

“He’s right,” Tjelvar said. “It’s not addressed to you.”

“It might explain what’s going on with this,” Curie said.

“I suspect it will,” Tjelvar said.

Curie tapped her fingers on her desk. “It  _ might _ be important.”

“It probably is.”

_ Why were they talking about this?  _ “You can’t open it,” Ed said again. The letter belonged to Hamid, and so did the bow and the dagger, Ed supposed. If Curie opened it, she’d be stealing. 

Curie pursed her lips. “So what do you propose we do then, Edward?”

Ed shrugged. “We have to take it to Hamid. I mean, it’s obvious isn’t it?” He looked at Tjelvar again, whose smile had not shifted, and who reached out a hand to gently squeeze Ed’s shoulder. Ed wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done that made Tjelvar so pleased, but the warmth of that smile and the gentle pressure of Tjelvar’s hand felt a little bit like the touch of Apollo and he tried to ignore how his heart tripped up a notch when he accidentally met Tjelvar's eyes.

Curie sighed. “Hamid is currently in Japan, working with Wilde. How exactly do you propose we get the chest and its contents to him?”

“Einstein could take us,” Tjelvar said.

Curie looked decidedly unhappy with that. “I’m reluctant to give Einstein any more freedom after his jaunts to Rome,” she said. “He’s jeopardised the safety of this mission enough times that…”

“How exactly?” Tjelvar asked. “He brought Hamid and Azu and Ed back from Rome…”

“He’s an unstable element.”

“And yet you have no difficulty making use of his talents when the need arises, _ ” _ Tjelvar said. 

Curie’s expression darkened as she looked at Tjelvar and Ed resisted an urge to step in front of him.

“The information in this letter is too valuable to be out of our hands,” Curie said. “If something goes wrong in the teleport - if you end up lost, then we lose this information along with you. I need to open it now.”

“If Ed hadn’t come back, if he hadn’t opened the chest, then you wouldn’t even have access to it at all,” Tjelvar said. “He’s a paladin. A paladin of  _ Apollo.  _ And we need to get this letter to Hamid. We can give you the information that’s in it if it’s important, but I hardly see how information from the time of the fall of Rome could  _ possibly  _ be relevant to…”

“Hamid said Sasha and Grizzop were lost, in the trip back from Rome,” Ed said. “Maybe they went back in time?”

Curie blinked.

“What?” 

“What if…” Ed twisted his hands together, frowning. “What if when the transportation went wrong it went wrong in more than one place? Or more than one way? I mean. We lost time, when we were in the place where the hostages were, so it was already real weird, right? What if travelling from there made it even weirder?” Ed drew his brows together, looking at the bow. “That’s the right size for a goblin,” he said. “So is the dagger. Maybe they… got stuck? And this was the only way they could send a message?”

Curie was looking at Ed curiously, and Ed remembered standing in front of his father, listening to a lecture about failing his tutors. Most of the time when he spoke up, or had an idea, people just laughed it off, so he braced himself for the inevitable reason why everything he’d thought was wrong. Instead, Curie just pursed her lips.

“That’s possible,” she said.

“It is?” Ed said.

“Planar walking is very complex, the potential for things to go wrong is immense. Considering the time distortions that Ed and the others suffered it’s reasonable to think that perhaps…” she trailed off, looking at the chest and the letter again. “It would explain why the letter is addressed to Hamid and not to me, in any case.” She reached over and handed the letter to Ed, who took it. “You take care of it,” she said. “Until I can get in touch with Einstein. I don’t know exactly how Wilde, will react to me sending him an archaeologist and a paladin, but I’ve put up with enough weird requests from him for him to put up with more than a little bit of strangeness on our end. I can’t guarantee what sort of reception you’ll get, but he at least trusts our quarantine. You might have to wait a day or two though, Einstein is very, very busy.”

“We need to get this to them  _ now,”  _ Tjelvar said.

“If Edward is right,” Curie said, and she smiled at Ed in a way that was, to him, utterly unfamiliar, “they’ve waited two thousand years. They can wait a few more days, Tjelvar.”

Tjelvar didn’t look happy, but he nodded. Ed tucked the letter into his breast pocket, next to his holy symbol. 

It felt right there.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, and Curie smiled.


	9. Dazzling

Einstein, it seemed, was far more busy than Tjelvar would have anticipated. It was two weeks before they heard any word of him at all.

Tjelvar did his best to hide his impatience from Ed, who didn’t seem to mind the wait at all. They travelled to the tomb almost every day, and Ed quietly helped Tjelvar catalogue artefacts, his solid presence at Tjelvar’s back a constant comfort. They didn’t talk a great deal. Tjelvar knew from experience that Ed wasn’t one to chatter idly, and while he responded with enthusiasm whenever Tjelvar got caught up in a story about the past he rarely contributed much.

At one stage Tjelvar caught him examining a relief of Ra, a soft, wondering expression on his face and Tjelvar came up beside him. “The ancient Egyptians considered Ra the king of the gods,” he said and Tjelvar looked down at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I mean, Apollo wouldn’t… he’s not… no one really wants to pick a fight with Zeus about that sort of thing…”

Tjelvar let out a laugh. He wasn’t religious, not in any meaningful way, but the church of Zeus was certainly jealous enough to make waves over other gods or goddesses claiming dominion.

“The names we give our gods change so much over the centuries,” Tjelvar said, reaching out to hover a finger over the rays of the beautifully carved sun and the two figures below it, arms uplifted in benediction. 

“It feels like Apollo, here,” Ed said. “I mean, we’re underground, a long way from the sun, but it feels…” Ed takes a breath, an endearing frown line appearing between his perfect blue eyes. “It feels warm. Like he’s watching over me even if he can’t see me.”

Tjelvar glanced back at Ed again. “That must be nice,” he said.

Ed gave him a dazzling grin. “Yeah. It is.”

#

When Einstein arrived back it wasn’t in any way they had anticipated. Food at the Tahan house was still an elaborate affair, as much as it could be with scant supplies, and Curie liked to use dinner as an opportunity for people to check in and catch up on progress from various cells around the world. Tonight, however, it was disrupted by the gate guards crashing into the room. “A healer,” the halfling woman cried out. “Einstien’s back, and he’s injured!”

Ed shoved his chair back from the table and Tjelvar followed. His own healing magic would pale in comparison to what Ed could do, but until his arrival Tjelvar had been the first port of call for any injured agents, and he was adept enough to offer assistance. 

They found Einstein in the makeshift sick bay of the house, lying on a cot, skin grey. “What happened?” Ed asked, his tone more businesslike than Tjelvar had heard it before now.

“Says he fell off his horse,” the guard said. “He just appeared in the guardhouse. I guess he teleported? But the rest of his party are gone. Attacked, we think. He wasn’t very coherent.”

“He isn’t at the best of times,” Tjelvar muttered.

Curie had followed them, at a more sedate pace, and stood next to Ed as Ed held out his hands over the crumpled, tiny form of Einstein. Tjelvar had noted the change in him, over the past year, his guilt and concern for the fates of Hamid and the rest of his party had changed him a great deal, but he was, at heart, still an old, fragile man, and Tjelvar could not help but worry that he’d perhaps, finally, pushed himself too far.

“It’s all right,” Ed said, softly, and knelt beside the cot, the soft light of Apollo shining from his hands. “He’s going to be fine.”

There was a hush in the room as Ed worked. Tjelvar had realised, over the past two weeks in his company, that he was only really uncomfortable when he was surrounded by people. On his own, or just with Tjelvar, Ed was content enough to work and be left alone with his thoughts. He was an entirely different person at the tomb to how he was here, at dinner or surrounded by the other Harlequins. More often than not he would avoid meeting their eyes, twist his hands in front of him, bite back replies to questions or mumble them incoherently.

None of the others had seen Ed like this, Tjelvar realised, in his element, knowing what needed to be done and doing it, and he could see from the expression on Curie’s face, the expression of the Gate guard, that all of them were surprised.

The soft glow of Apollo’s light faded and Ed rested one hand on Einstein’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh and opening his eyes.

“He banged his head pretty bad,” Ed said, “I fixed that but he’ll need to rest for a couple of days before he tries to do any spells again. And uh… he broke his arm too. Falling off a horse isn’t fun and his bones are weaker than most.”

“He’ll be all right though?” Curie asked.

“Oh yeah,” Ed said. 

“Thank you, Edward,” Curie said. “You did brilliantly.”

Ed’s cheeks turned pick with pleasure and he gave her a wide grin. Tjelvar couldn’t really blame Curie for blinking and stepping back, it was like being bathed in the full light of the summer sun, that smile, and no one in the room, save the unconscious Einstein, could fail to feel the warmth of it.

“We should let him sleep for a few hours,” Ed said, looking back down at Einstein, then standing. 

“Yes,” Curie said. “Thank you again, Edward.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Ed said, and he looked down, some of his shyness returning now that he wasn’t actively healing. 

“What made you want to become a paladin, Ed?” Tjelvar asked him, after they completed their interrupted dinner. They had something of a routine now, after eating, they’d retire back up to their rooms and Ed would polish his armor or read while Tjelvar sorted the artefacts he’d brought back from the tomb. The room had become progressively messier, over the past two weeks, as with Ed’s help he could bring back more than he could on his own, and they were scattered across the third cot, awaiting the labels that Tjelvar made with string and card. Perhaps it was pointless, to catalogue everything so meticulously, but Tjelvar firmly believed that they needed to keep to the forms if they wanted the world to go back to anything approaching what it was.

It soothed him. 

Ed had at first just read from his own holy texts, but on the second or third night he’d started on one of the Harrison Campbell novels that Tjelvar had leant him, down in the cells. Ed read slowly and carefully, a finger usually tracing the words, but he seemed to be enjoying the story, and his presence in the room while Tjelvar worked felt comforting and right. 

Edward looked up from his book, surprised at the question, Tjelvar thought. 

“I… well. I don’t know really. It just seemed… I couldn’t really… uh…”

Ed seemed more flustered than was normal and Tjelvar wondered if he’d hit a nerve. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said. 

“Oh ah. It’s all right, Tjelvar. It’s just that…” Ed frowned, carefully marked the page he was at and set the book aside. “It’s just that my family didn’t want me to be a paladin. Not really.”

“Is that why you don’t have their name any more?”

Ed shrugged. “Kind of. I guess. Da didn’t want me to embarrass him any more so I changed it.”

Tjelvar felt a sharp pang of anger. “How in the world did he think you were embarrassing him?”

“Oh you know,” Ed shrugged again, and Tjelvar saw that he was carefully avoiding looking directly at him. “I’m not smart, Tjelvar. And Da likes it for his sons to be smart, so they can go into politics and show the rest of the world how good the family is. I couldn’t do that.”

“Did he force you to join the church?”

Edward let out a laugh. “Oh no, no he didn’t. I went to the Church myself. I mean. I always knew Apollo loved me, it just seemed natural to go there when…” Ed swallowed. “They took me in and taught me and I changed my name. Da knows where I am if he needs me.” There was an edge of bitterness to Ed’s voice that Tjelvar had never heard before. “I mean. He would, if he was okay. But we don’t know if he’s okay, do we? We don’t know if anyone in England is.”

Tjelvar was beginning to regret this entire line of conversation. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Or bring up bad memories.”

Ed did meet his eyes then, and Tjelvar couldn’t quite fathom the expression in them. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I don’t mind talking about it with you. It was just easier not to, before, you know? Now I don’t even know if they’re still the same as they were and it seems a bit stupid to worry about embarrassing him any more. Not when the whole world has gone weird.”

“I suppose it does,” Tjelvar said. 

Ed gave him a small smile, then reached for his book again, and Tjelvar decided they’d had enough conversation for one night. He continued to watch Ed, though, for a few moments before returning to his own work, but it was more difficult to concentrate on numbering and cataloguing, when he could remember the soft light of Apollo in Edward’s hands and wonder at a parent who could be so blind to the virtues of their own child.

The world had gone weird, as Ed said, but parts of it had always been beyond Tjelvar's comprehension.


	10. Pack Well

Edward liked Einstein. There was something familiar about him - had been even before they’d gotten back from Rome. He enjoyed talking to Edward about things, had listened to him describe the frogs and the buildings he’d seen while he’d been on his own, had asked him a lot of questions about Apollo and how it felt to try to use divine magic. Like Tjelvar, Einstein just seemed to be genuinely interested in things, and in people, and Ed was beginning to realise how nice it was when that interest was focused on him.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about Tjelvar asking about his family. Most of the time when people found out who Ed was - or which family he came from - they wanted to ask him for something. Money, usually. Or some way to be introduced to his father. Ed was then left in the awkward position of letting whoever was asking know that if he turned up at the family estate with a friend his father would most likely shut the door in Ed’s face, or worse, invite them in.

That had never ended well.

He wanted to keep those two parts of his life separate. What came afterwards, with Apollo, with Tjelvar, those were memories he treasured, memories that were his and his alone. Thinking about his father, about his brothers, in the same room with Tjelvar, made him feel awkward and lost again. 

But Tjelvar had been kind, and Tjelvar had stopped asking questions, and now Ed thought maybe he did want to talk about it. Maybe… maybe he could sort through the knot of feelings in his chest that rose up and threatened to choke him whenever he thought about his father and his brothers and his mother… maybe…

Tjelvar just seemed like he could understand. A lot better than Ed could, any way.

“That horse really did a number on me, eh?” Einstein said, when Ed went to check on him the following day.

“Do you remember anything else about what happened?”

Einstein, now sitting up in bed, shrugged. “Eh. There was a light, and probably some magic, and then BAM, I was on the ground and Gerard said to go so I went, you know?”

Ed knew that protocol when Einstein was on a mission was for him to teleport out at the first sign of trouble. Ed didn’t know if Curie had word from the group he’d been with via mobile stone, but it really wasn’t his job to worry about that sort of thing. Einstein didn’t seem worried, although he wasn’t allowed to use magic for at least another three days, so the scouting party would be on their own until then, unless they could find another means of transport.

“By the grace of Apollo, they’ll be all right,” Ed said, and Einstein gave him a grin. 

“Curie said you and Tjelvar want to go and visit Wilde,” Einstein said then, after Ed passed a hand over Einstein’s head to make sure there was nothing he’d missed when he’d treated him the day before. There wasn’t.

“We found a letter to Hamid,” Ed said, nodding. The letter was still nestled in his pocket, and he reached up a hand to touch it. “Tjelvar seems to think it’s impossible that it could be there.”  
“Oh?”

“He found it on a dig in France. An old dig. So it’s a letter from the past? I thought maybe since Grizzop and Sasha didn’t come back to here and _ now _they might have… gone back somehow?” 

Einstein made an interested “mmm” sound. “Magic is really weird, you know? And Rome is…”

“... the worst,” Ed finished with him. Einstein grinned, then tilted his head, contemplating Ed for a moment.

“Curie said it was you who suggested they might have gone back in time,” Einstein said, and Ed shrugged.

“It just seemed… I dunno. The letter had to have gotten there somehow, right? And as you said, magic is weird and Rome is weird and well… Hamid and Grizzop and Sasha are all a bit weird too.”

“Yes,” Einstein said. “Yes they are all very weird. So are you, Ed. And so am I.” Ed let out a small huff of laughter, and Einstein patted his hand. “Weird isn’t always bad, Eddie. You know that right?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

#

The scouting party returned two days later, with two more injured, though none killed. They’d been attacked on the road between Cairo and Damascus, on the way back from a conference with the Orc communities. The goal, it seemed, had been the kidnapping of Einstein.

“This complicates matters,” Curie said to Tjelvar and Ed. 

“Surely not,” Tjelvar said. 

“Our enemies don’t know about this base,” Curie said, “but they do know about the places we go to and from. And I’m afraid Wilde’s base is very much a known quantity.”

“They know where he is?”

“The general area, yes. From what I understand he is well protected so they’re unable to strike at him directly, but anyone coming in and out will be fair game.”

“Can’t we just teleport directly into…”

“Anti magic fields,” Curie says. “Standard for various reasons, also Wilde has set up teleportation wards so that not even Einstein can get directly into their base. But if we teleport you to where Einstein would normally teleport… potential allies, there’s a good chance you’ll be ambushed.”

Ed looked at Tjelvar, who seemed irritated. “So teleport us somewhere else. Somewhere outside the range. Ed and I can make our way there easily enough.”

Curie spread her hands on the table, and Ed knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. “If you let us read the letter Edwar…”

“No,” Ed said. “I’m sorry Ma’am but I can’t let you do that.”

Curie gave him a long look, then sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Go find Einstein. He’s been briefed. If you think he’s strong enough to take you, he can take you.”

“Will Wilde and the others know we’re coming?”

“I’ve already sent word. He’ll be expecting you.”

“What about Hamid?” Ed asked.

“Wilde isn’t much for exposition, these days,” Curie said. “He didn’t mention Hamid and the others. I will presume if they are not currently at Wilde’s base he will know where to find them. For obvious reasons we do not give out more information than that.” Tjelvar let out a sigh, then glanced at Ed. Curie continued. “I don’t feel comfortable teleporting you to the island direct. You will have to take ship there from Mihara. It’s not a long journey but water travel at present is fraught with danger…”

“It’s all right,” Ed said. “Tjelvar knows how to get to places. And I can protect him. We’ll find Hamid.”

Curie gave Ed a fond look that Tjelvar was grateful for. It might have taken time, but Tjelvar could see that Curie knew Ed wasn’t a burden or a nuisance or someone who needed to be cared for - Ed was his own person with his own morality and a very, very clear view of the world. It was refreshing, to be honest.

“Einstein’s in his room,” she said. “I’ll send word to be ready for you in two hours. Make sure you pack for wet weather. From what I can gather in Wilde’s reports, it’s been raining there for months.”

“Charming,” Tjevlar said.


	11. Seasick

Tjelvar hadn’t been teleported very often and would freely admit that he found the sensation highly unpleasant. It didn’t help that they came back to themselves in damp humidity, standing in a muddy puddle. Tjelvar had an arrow knocked and Ed was holding his morningstar in case of potential attacks on Einstein, but apparently they were undetected and safe.

Once they were certain of it, Einstein gave them a cheery wave. “No point in me getting wet too,” he said, before popping back out of existence.

Ed chuckled, seemingly unfased by the wet, or the teleportation, and Tjelvar hooked his bow back to his pack and slid the arrow into its quiver.

“We’re about two miles out of town,” Tjelvar said.

The light drizzle that had been falling turned into heavy, drumming rain during their walk to the town of Mihara. Tjelvar’s Japanese wasn’t great, but they managed to get directions to the port where they could book passage across to Ōkunoshima. Once at the port, however, they encountered some resistance. The harbour master frowned at them, and Tjelvar eventually worked out that most folk didn’t bother to go to the island.

“Nothing there,” he said, and a string of Japanese words that Tjelvar couldn’t catch.

“There are villages,” Tjelvar said, or at least he thought he said. 

The harbourmaster shrugged. “If you pay, Nino will take you,” he said, indicating a berth a few yards down the row. 

Tjelvar thanked the man and they made their way to the boat, somewhat shabby and small, moored at the dock. A lithe human was clambering over it, doing boat-like activities, Tjelvar supposed, although he couldn’t tell exactly what. At their approach they looked up, and Tjelvar realised with a small start of surprise that they weren’t Japanese - sandy coloured hair and large pale eyes were set in a freckled face that took in their presence with a great deal of surprise.

“Konichiwa?” they said in badly accented Japanese.

“Do you speak English?” Tjelvar asked.

“Oh thank the gods, yes,” they said, reaching out a hand to shake Tjelvar’s. “Lovely people, the Japanese, but I honestly cannot get my head around how they talk about time. I’m Nino.”

“Tjelvar, and this is Ed.” Nino glanced Ed’s way, blinked, then smiled in a way that Tjelvar didn’t precisely like. 

“Oh?” they said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ed. Tjelvar. What can I do for you?”

“We’d like to book passage to Ōkunoshima,” Tjelvar said, and whatever interest Ed had sparked in Nino faded into suspicion.

“Why?” they asked, flatly.

“We have friends there,” Tjelvar said.

“Who?”

Tjelvar was finding it difficult to quell rising irritation with this person, but Ed stepped forward.

“Oscar Wilde,” Ed said and Tjelvar sucked in a breath. He had wanted to stay incognito while they were here, but he supposed he should have made that more clear to Ed before they got into negotiations. 

At the name, however, Nino let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re friends with Oscar?” they said. “You don’t really look like his usual crowd.” Then they tilted their head, giving another appraising look at Ed before turning their attention back to Tjelvar. “Well,  _ you _ don’t, any way.”

“I ah… was at Oxford with him,” Tjelvar said, resisting the urge to stand in front of Ed and break Nino’s appraising gaze. It wasn’t  _ strictly  _ a lie. They had both attended, around the same time, but Oscar had been studying literature and Tjelvar had been struggling with the admissions board and they had never crossed paths.

The kinds of parties that Oscar attended tended not to include orc archaeologists on the guest lists.

“Oh, yeah, well. You forget about what went on before, don’t you?” Nino said. “What with the world ending. So you’re just looking people up? A lot of folk are trying to reconnect with people they thought they’d lost.”

“Something like that,” Tjelvar said.

“Well I can take you across. The weather is unpredictable though, could be a bit rough.”

“We’ll take that chance,” Tjelvar said. 

#

A bit rough turned out to be a massive understatement, Tjelvar thought to himself the fifth time he had to lean over the side of the boat to void his stomach. There wasn’t anything left in it, really, but it felt like bad manners to just retch into the bottom of the boat.

Ed, who seemed as at home on the boat as he had on land, checked in on him periodically, but Tjelvar was too miserable to notice. Healing magic did nothing to calm the roiling in his stomach and he could do little except hang on and retch for the three hours it took them to get to Ōkunoshima.

The island itself was unremarkable from a distance, and Nino moored the boat at a dock that looked the worse for wear. Obviously it was used to transport supplies to and from the island, and a small hut at the side (presumably for administration) looked deserted. Tjelvar almost fell to his knees on the wooden boards of the dock in gratitude that the ground was now steady.

“Ask Oscar if he needs anything from the mainland when you see him,” Nino said, not bothering to hide their amusement at Tjelvar’s condition. “I’ll stay here for the next day if you need a trip back.” Nino winked at Ed as he said that and Tjelvar blinked, glancing between the two of them and seeing colour rise to Ed’s cheeks. Nino stood, expectantly, and Tjelvar mumbled an apology as he fumbled with his coin purse, dropping the agreed on price into Nino’s hand, who tucked it away into their own clothing. 

“A pleasure to meet you… both of course,” Nino said and Tjelvar made an effort not to scowl at them. Nino didn’t notice his bad temper, though, as their eyes were very firmly fixed on Ed as they spoke.

As they had been for the entire journey, pretty much, Tjelvar realised.

Ed waved cheerily enough and Nino made their way back to their boat.

“They were a little strange,” Ed said, as they walked through the mud and wet towards the village that Einstein had told them housed Wilde’s base. Tjelvar, not entirely sure why he was suddenly so angry, grunted in agreement. “Are you feeling any better now?” Ed asked. “I can try some more healing if you’re not…”

Tjelvar’s mouth tasted terrible and his stomach muscles and throat were sore from repeated retching and his head throbbed with dehydration and he really wasn’t at all pleased with anything right now, but he  _ wasn’t  _ injured and they needed to not waste resources if Wilde’s defenses were anything like Curie had hinted. “I’ll be fine, Ed,” he croaked out, and Ed put out a hand to stop Tjelvar from walking, a frown between his perfect brows.

“No you’re not. Here.” He murmured a prayer and Tjelvar was suddenly engulfed by warmth, starting in his abdomen and spreading upwards like a slowly kindling fire. All his breath left him in a rush of pleasure and relief so intense his knees buckled. Ed caught his elbow and stopped him from falling, laughing a little.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have warned you,” Ed said, slinging his other arm around Tjelvar’s waist to steady him. Tjelvar sucked in a breath, very much aware that he was pressed up against Ed like some sort of swooning maiden in a romance novel.

Ed smelled like sunshine and armor polish and his arms were very, very strong.

He swallowed. The small part of his brain that wasn’t caught up in how nice it was that all the discomfort and grossness of the boat trip had been smoothed away as easily as breathing popped up to inform him of exactly why it was he’d been so angry with Nino.

_ Oh. _

He cleared his throat and stepped out of Ed’s embrace. “Thank you, Ed,” he managed, voice hoarse now for an entirely different reason. Ed seemed reluctant to let go of Tjelvar’s elbow but Tjelvar gently, resolutely, tugged himself free and looked up at Ed. Ed was studying his face, looking for more signs of sickness, probably. Definitely. There was absolutely no other reason why he would be looking at Tjelvar so intently, eyes dropping to Tjelvar’s lips and then back up again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Tjelvar… Um…”

“Drop your weapons,” a voice came from behind him. “And put your hands where I can see them.”


	12. Embarrassment

It shouldn’t really possible to get lost in someone’s eyes, not _ actually _. Ed had been reading that Harrison Campbell novel for too long, probably, that he could even consider it a possibility to think there was something more than just friendship in Tjelvar’s expression as they stared at each other, standing in the soft drizzle.

There was something he was supposed to have done, in that moment before the voice rang out in the damp air, and he didn’t do it, because he was confused, and he was distracted, and now they had a man pointing a crossbow at them from the trees and Ed really should have been paying more attention. It had just been… very very hard to tear his gaze away from Tjelvar’s, hard to wonder why exactly his mouth had gone dry and his fingers had started to tingle more than they should have in the aftermath of simply laying on hands.

And Tjelvar hadn’t seemed to want to look away either, despite stepping out of the reach of Ed’s arms, he’d stood there, _ looking _ at Ed, and Ed felt as though he’d never been looked at before in his entire life, certainly not like _ that. _

He turned, slowly, to see a slender man with a moustache that was doing its best to fight off the humidity in the air in order to defy gravity, pointing a crossbow at them, expression grim and threatening.

“Howard!” Tjelvar said. 

“Tjelvar?”

“Yes, Howard, it’s Tjelvar,” Tjelvar sounded irritated. “Curie called ahead and told you to expect us.”

“Told _ Wilde _to expect you, you mean,” and Howard, if that was who this was, also sounded irritated.

“Told Wilde, who told both of us,” another voice came from behind Howard and Ed turned to see a taller man, armed and armored (although his sword was sheathed) and smiling slightly. “You weren’t listening in the briefing again, Howard.”

Howard made a face and hooked his crossbow back on his back. “He’s so _ maudlin _at the moment,” he said. “I’m sorry if he simply cannot hold my attention when he's in his doldrums.”

“He’s worried.”

“We’re _all_ worried, Oscar is just _pining_.”

“You’re not worried, Howard, I actually think you’re incapable.”

“We’re actually here to make a delivery, Barnes,” Tjelvar said, obviously keen for the conversation to become more relevant. “To Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan.”

Barnes’ face turned grim. “That… might be difficult.”

“Of course it will,” Tjelvar said, sighing.

#

Ed was too tall for the inn. It wasn’t exactly a new problem for him, but here and now, face to face with the grim looking man behind the reading desk, he felt like a hulking giant invader and had to consciously stop himself from wringing his hands. 

Oscar Wilde looked absolutely nothing like Ed expected. He vaguely remembered seeing him once, at a soiree his father had arranged, but Ed had very strict instructions on how to behave at events like those and one of those instructions was to under no circumstance talk to Oscar Wilde. Ed had asked why not, and his father had muttered darkly about the man’s reputation and his “penchant for writing bloody lies about us, damned cheek of the man”. 

“He’d make a meal of you in no time, Eddie,” his brother William had said. “And you’re enough of an embarrassment to us as it is.”

So Ed hadn’t gone near the beautiful, flamboyantly dressed man with the easy, charming laugh who had half the party captivated with a story about mirrors and decadence and excess - no matter that Ed desperately wanted to hear the story. Instead he’d kept to the buffet table like a good son of York and fled as soon as it was considered polite, Just like father wanted.

That was, of course, before he’d realised that nothing he could do was good enough to satisfy Father, as the article that Wilde had written the following week had sent him into a rage that lasted days, although when Ed had read it he’d seen nothing but a description of a beautifully catered and well attended party.

Ed knew he had missed something, about the article, about his father’s reactions, about Wilde himself, and he felt judged in advance standing in front of him now. 

Yet, the man who sat behind the desk looked nothing like the bright figure from Ed’s memory. The face that he remembered was now marked with a jagged scar, the flamboyant suit was replaced with muted grey peasant-style clothing and there were dark circles under his eyes.

When he saw them, however, he arranged a smile that had an echo of the old charm. 

“Tjelvar. And this is Ed?” He raked his eyes up and down Ed in a way that was, to Ed, familiar enough. He might not have been the most intelligent person out there, but he had been told often enough that he was handsome. “Well, I can finally see what the fuss was about.”

“Oscar,” Tjelvar said, a note of warning in his voice, and Wilde turned his attention to Tjelvar, Ed saw his eyebrows raise and his smile turn into something different. “Well, well, well,” Wilde said, standing up and moving around to the front of his desk. He folded his arms over his chest, and contemplated the two of them for a long moment.

“Mmmm. Bertie never did manage to get Ed into bed, as I recall. Who would have thought our sunny paladin had a taste for orcs?”

Ed heard Tjelvar’s sharp, indrawn breath and Ed felt a touch of panic. “Oscar!” Tjelvar said. “What’s gotten into you?”

Wilde’s eyes fell on Tjelvar for a moment and he gave the slightest of nods, even as Tjelvar reached for Ed’s elbow. A few seconds later, it clicked what Wilde was implying and Ed felt heat rush to his cheeks, impossible to control even if he wanted to.

“I…” he started, then swallowed, and Wilde turned his attention back to Ed, eyes sharp and piercing. He felt like he’d been stripped bare in front of the man, his whole heart exposed, and he took a step backwards, flustered and ashamed.

There was a long, supremely awkward moment of silence, then Wilde’s expression changed completely. All amusement was gone, wiped from his features, replaced with businesslike efficiency.

“Not infected, then,” he said, holding out a hand to Tjelvar, who still looked utterly wrong footed. Wilde rolled his eyes and sighed. “Protocol, Tjelvar, surely Curie told you about the…”

“... embarrassment. Gods. She said you were better at it than anyone else, I’ve just not had to be on the other end before…” 

Wilde smiled, but there was sadness in it. “I do apologise,” he said. “I hope you understand. It’s either that or locking you in the basement for a week again it does get very tedious down there.”

“What…?” Ed said.

Tjelvar’s fingers on Ed’s elbow tightened a little and Ed allowed himself to be gently pulled closer. “The infected… they don’t… they don’t feel emotions the same way we do. It takes them a little while to… get things right. There was a lot of figuring out going on while you were away, Ed, and in the end it turned out that… well. That embarrassing someone was the fastest way to find out if they were under the influence.”

“Funnily enough Zolf has a talent for it as well, although his methods are a little different to mine.” Wilde seemed pained for a moment before he turned to Ed and offered a hand. “Again, you have my apologies. Embarrassing the upper classes has always been a hobby of mine, it never fails to feel a little wrong when I have to turn my skills on allies.”

Ed took Wilde’s hand and shook it, still a little stunned. The heat wouldn’t leave his cheeks and he couldn’t help glancing at Tjelvar, whose own skin was coloured darker under his freckles. Tjelvar caught Ed’s eyes in his for a second before skittering away and Ed couldn’t lose the feeling of wanting to sink into the floor.

“Since the two of you are partnered and Curie vouches for you I’m willing to forgo sending you down to the cells,” Wilde continued, “but we’ve been tricked too often to simply accepted your story on face value. Now. Curie said you have a letter for Hamid?”

Ed glanced back at Tjelvar and Tjelvar nodded. Ed reached into his breastplate and brought out the letter, but Wilde didn’t reach for it, just looked at it, sadness in his expression. “She mentioned a bow, and a dagger as well?” 

“Oh, yes!” Ed turned to where he’d dropped his pack and opened it, carefully removing the bow and the dagger and setting both on Wilde’s desk.

Wilde had gone completely still, eyes fixed on the weapons, unblinking and unreadable. Then he drew in a long, slow breath through his nose, letting it out through the same, and as he did Ed saw his shoulders slump.

“Oh,” he said. 

“You recognise them,” Tjelvar said, and Wilde reached out a hand, hesitant, and Ed could see a slight tremble in it before he gently laid it on the wood of the bow, one thumb tracing the curve of the grip. 

“Yes,” Wilde said, softly. “This was Grizzop’s.”


	13. Close Quarters

Tjelvar had heard stories about Hamid’s former companions even before Ed’s return from Rome, cheerful anecdotes from Einstein, mostly, who had a great deal of admiration for Hamid especially, and Azu’s extended family, as well as a healthy respect for the goblin paladin. Zolf had mentioned Sasha, just once, during a conversation down in the tomb, and clamped down almost immediately when Tjelvar asked a question about her. Zolf wasn’t much for sharing at the best of times, and he obviously regretted his lapse, because he never mentioned her again.

Wilde, after gently touching the bow turned back to them and motioned for them to sit, taking the chair behind the desk. Tjelvar noticed he carefully avoided looking at the bow and dagger again. “You have a letter to Hamid?” Wilde said. Tjelvar glanced at Ed, who nodded, but made no move to retrieve the letter from his breastplate. “Well. He can read it when he returns. The bow and the dagger are proof enough, I think, that wherever Sasha and Grizzop are now, they’re not coming back to us.”

Tjelvar sat, and glanced at Ed, who did the same. Ed’s cheeks were still flushed pink and Tjelvar could admit that he was having a little difficulty dragging his own thoughts away from what Wilde had implied. That Ed was obviously so discomforted by it as well could only mean that…

“I’m sorry,” Ed said. “Grizzop and Sasha helped me loads in Rome. They… they knew what they were doing.”

“Yes, well,” Wilde said. “I’ve never met anyone as good at what she does as Sasha, and Grizzop had determination enough to overcome the most…” Wilde’s lip twisted “stubborn of obstacles. We’ll see what the letter says, but I wouldn’t dream of opening it without Hamid here.” His lip twisted. “Grizzop would give me a lecture about morality if I tried.”

Ed leaned forward, obviously heartened by the fact that Wilde wasn’t going to ask to see it the way Curie had. Tjelvar was, honestly, surprised, given Oscar’s demeanor, that he wasn’t going to insist on reading the letter, but perhaps, knowing Sasha and Grizzop as well as he did, he was already half anticipating the contents.

“Where is Hamid?” Ed asked then. “Curie said he and Azu were working with you now. That’s why we came.”

Oscar took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the desk, fingers tenting in front of him. “On a mission,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t say any more than that. You know how it is.”

“But I thought you’d cleared…”

“We don’t just have to fear infection, here, Edward,” Oscar said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. “I can’t guarantee their safety, or yours. If any of us are captured well… I have contingency plans in place for myself that I would never ask of anyone else. The others don’t know enough to be a danger. So you’ll have to remain ignorant for now. I will happily allow you to stay here with us until Hamid’s return, however? With Zolf away we’re short on healing in the village and Tjelvar, I could definitely use your help with the perimeter defenses. I’ve had to maintain the alarm on my own for quite some time.”

“Of course,” Tjelvar said. “We’d be happy to help.”

“Fantastic,” Oscar said. “I’ll set up a room for you. We’re short on space so you’ll have to share, I hope you don’t…”

“Oh we normally share,” Ed said, and Tjelvar saw Oscar’s eyebrow raise a little at that. He coughed, and Oscar’s expression smoothed as he stood, motioning for them to follow.

It was a very small room, with two futons rolled in the corner and a chest where they could put their belongings. Oscar left them there to get settled and Tjelvar busied himself with stashing his bow and quiver, carefully avoiding looking at Ed, or at least trying to. It was difficult, in such a small space, and they kept bumping into each other as they moved and Tjelvar felt his skin heat with embarrassment and words crowd against his lips, too confused and flustered to decide whether he needed to apologise or explain or  _ something… _

The third time he accidentally walked backwards into Ed (who had taken off his breastplate, making him into a broad, solid wall of human, heat radiating from him through his thin undershirt) he let out a frustrated breath and turned around to see Ed with a slightly hurt expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Tjelvar said, but it came out snappish and Ed’s face fell even further.

“Are you angry with me?” Ed asked.

Tjelvar really wanted to hit something. He clamped down on that feeling. He  _ wasn’t _ like that. “Gods, no I’m not angry with  _ you…” _

“But you’re angry with something.”

“I’m angry with  _ Oscar,”  _ Tjelvar said. 

“Because of what he said about… about us?” Tjelvar swallowed, mind racing for some way to answer Ed that didn’t sound like a dismissal, that didn’t embarrass them both further, that didn’t give away what he’d realised only an hour before but also didn’t cut off any future exploration of… possibilities.

The problem with Eddie, one of them, any way (a problem that wasn’t to do with how warm he was, with how the thin shirt he wore was still damp from the rain outside and clung to the planes of his chest, with how much Tjelvar wanted to kiss away the slight downturn of his lips) was that he wasn’t a subtle man, and if Tjelvar said the wrong thing there was a chance he’d ruin everything.

Not that Eddie felt the same way, though. It would be impossible, stupid, preposterous to think that Edward Keystone would find anything attractive about an orc archaeologist, one who’d nearly flunked out of Oxford, one who’d fixated on Hannibal to the exclusion of everything else in his career, one who wandered the Tahan estate in the aftermath of the apocolypse like the worst kind of fifth wheel…

_ Damn you, Oscar. _

Tjelvar took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. 

Ed’s shoulders slumped. “Oh,” he said. “Well. He did say it was because of protocol and…”

Tjelvar reached out a hand, hesitating a second before resting it on Ed’s forearm, squeezing gently. Ed looked down at his hand, then back up at Tjelvar, mouth slightly open, brows drawn together in confusion. 

“I know why Oscar said what he did. As far as testing for protocol is concerned he really couldn’t have chosen anything better.”

Ed let out breath in a half laugh. “It was  _ well  _ embarrassing,” Ed said. 

Tjelvar licked his lips. “I’m sorry he upset you,” he said, and Ed lifted and raised one shoulder.

“I guess he had to be sure, yeah?” he said. “I mean telling… uh… making up things about people is what he does. Did. Before all of this. I read an article he wrote once. Da said it was all lies.”

Tjelvar didn’t know the Duke of York. Of course he didn’t. But Ed had let enough slip about him in conversation that he suspected Oscar hadn’t had to lie even a little bit to make the man angry. A surge of protectiveness flowed through him

Tjelvar hadn’t moved his hand from Ed’s arm and he took a long, shaky breath. “You know… Ed… maybe what Oscar said wasn’t…”

There was a knock on the doorframe and Tjelvar looked up to see Howard standing in the doorway, and if Oscar’s abuse of protocol hadn’t been enough to make Tjelvar angry, the smug, knowing look on Howard’s face was close to sending Tjelvar into a beserker rage. 

“Oscar says he’s going to reinforce the alarm barrier,” Howard said. “He’d like you to come along, if you’re not…” Howard’s smirk deepened, “... _ busy.” _

Tjelvar looked back at Ed, whose eyes were wide and round and cheeks were still slightly flushed. Part of him really wanted to ignore Howard completely, but he didn’t want to embarrass Ed any more, didn’t want to put a foot wrong with this, whatever it was. It had to be right. 

Tjelvar sighed and dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said.


	14. Slightly Lost

Ed felt a little bit lost, if he was honest with himself. Once Tjelvar had left to help Wilde with whatever magic they were doing to help protect the village and the inn, he had a cursory wash and ventured out into inn proper. The inn itself was modest and comfortable, and mostly empty from what Ed could see. A small Japanese man was busy in the kitchens and one or two older men were sitting in the bar proper - they looked up when Ed came in, eyes flat and distrustful, so Ed left again fairly quickly. He didn’t want to make trouble.

It didn’t help that his mind kept circling back to what Wilde had said in the reading room. It was like he was on a continual loop, between healing Tjelvar in the woods, the way Tjelvar had  _ looked  _ at him, Wilde’s words…  _ who would have thought our sunny paladin would have a taste for orcs?  _ Tjelvar’s hand on his arm in their room, then back to the woods and Tjelvar’s face and Wilde’s words and…

_ A taste for orcs. _

Ed had been involved with a few people, back before the Church of Apollo. Of course, being the youngest son of York had meant he was expected to marry and have heirs and his parents had been very careful to introduce him to a selection of eligible young women of breeding. 

Ed had always tried to be polite, and meeting them usually started well. Sometimes they were very keen for him not to talk at all, and sometimes that was nice, but eventually there had to be discussions and dinner parties and well. There was always a point where their eyes would start to glaze over and Ed knew they’d lost interest. He came to expect it, actually, and he’d ride it out waiting for the inevitable fall and the wrath of his father about him not being able to  _ just shut up Eddie, they like you well enough when you’re not talking. _

It was easier just to go along with it and not worry too much. At the church, at least, he didn’t have to worry about  _ that. _

But Tjelvar had started out impatient with Eddie, the way most people did, and then something had changed, those weeks in the tomb where they had worked together in companionable silence, the musty darkness around them broken by the soft light of Tjelvar’s magic lantern, and Tjelvar had started answering his questions with a smile and talking to him as though he was a friend and not just someone to take care of, or someone to ignore. Ed had fallen into something like comfort, the constant strain of having to be Ed started to drain away and he’d felt…

...content.

He didn’t know how this was supposed to go, was almost certain it couldn’t go at all, if he was being honest, no matter that he could still feel the imprint of Tjelvar’s hand on his arm and couldn’t drag his thoughts away from the tone of Tjelvar’s voice and the soft, hesitant look on his face.  _ Maybe what Oscar said wasn’t… _ Wasn’t what? 

_ Wasn’t what? _

Sometimes he really really wished he was smarter.

He found himself out in a covered area behind the inn eventually, a space that was obviously off limits to regular customers. There were weapon racks up against the side wall of the inn, and an area that looked very much like the practice field at the seminary in Sussex - a comparison that was helped by the presence of the half dressed man in the middle of it, practicing sword forms.

Ed recognised him as Howard’s companion - Barnes - and his forms were pretty much perfect. When he noticed Ed he turned and sheathed the sword, giving him a companionable nod. 

“Edward,” he said. “Are you settling in all right?”

“Oh. Yes. Tjelvar’s gone out with Wilde to see to the… alarm?”

Barnes walked to where there was a basin of water, dipping a hand into it and splashing his face. “He’s been maintaining it on his own for months,” he said. “It’ll be good for him to get a bit of rest.”

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

Barnes glanced at him, a calculating look in his eye. “You’re a paladin of Apollo, yes?”

“Yes!”

“The villagers don’t get much access to healing, or at least it didn’t before Zolf and Oscar turned up. They know to come here when things go wrong, though, so the best thing you can do is stick around. Usually Zolf would get two or three patients a day. There are a couple of pregnancies he’s been keeping an eye on, and I think old Sato Daichi gets regular treatment for their arthritis. The constant damp here has really done a number on some of the older residents.”

“I don’t speak Japanese,” Ed said. 

Barnes snorted a little at that. “Neither did Zolf. They’ll manage to get around it, don’t worry. Most of the time they just point to the spots that hurt. Apollo doesn’t need more information than that, does he?”

“Not usually.”

Barnes reached for his tunic and pulled it on. “Well if you’re ever bored you can always come down here and spar with me. I’ve had to practice by myself since Zolf left.” Barnes indicated that Ed should follow him. “Ryo usually has lunch ready about now if you want to eat?”

Ed was suddenly aware that he was ravenous. They hadn’t eaten since Cairo. He followed Barnes back into the taproom where he said something to the man behind the bar and took a seat in the back corner. The other patrons, seeing that Ed was with Barnes, relaxed a little, and Eddie tried not to think how low the roof was and how difficult it was to fold his too long legs under him in order to sit on the cushions at the low table.

Barnes smiled a little wryly at Ed’s awkward shifting. “You get used to it, after a while,” he said. 

The bartender brought them rice and miso soup and a plate of sizzling fish, all of which was delicious, and they were quiet for a time while they ate. When Barnes pushed back his empty bowl he gave Ed a smile. 

“Don’t tell Zolf, but Ryo is the better chef.”

“Zolf cooks?” Ed asked.

“Loves it.”

Edward had a sudden, all senses memory of eating a frog, in Rome, and swallowed. There was only a mouthful of rice left in his bowl. It would be rude not to finish it.

“How long have they been gone?”

Barnes took a breath. “A few days. It’s not unusual for them to take their time and this particular mission is...” Barnes trailed off. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. Sorry.”

Ed finished the last of his rice. “It’s all right. I’m used to not knowing all the details.”

Barnes raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Well I’d say I wasn’t, but they didn’t tell us much in the navy either.” Barnes got to his feet. “Ryo will come and tell you if you get any patients today. You can take a bath, if you like? We have a hot spring nearby so water’s no problem and I know the trip over to the island can be a bit rough these days.”

Ed smoothed a hand over his shirt, thinking it would be nice to be fully clean after the spray of salt water and the damp of the walk to the inn. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll do that.”


	15. Help

It was still raining. Oscar moved through the mud and muck with far more confidence than Tjelvar would have expected from a city born member of the social elite, but he supposed the man had spent the last eighteen months doing a lot more than just sitting behind a desk. He wore a wide brimmed japanese style hat that kept the worst of the rain off, and while Tjelvar would never have admitted his own could possibly be inadequate in any way, he did rather wish it did more than simply gather the water in a pool around its rim to occasionally spill over down the neck of his shirt.

It wasn’t cold, but Tjelvar had rarely been so unpleasantly damp.

“Does it ever stop raining?”

“Not often,” Oscar said, shortly. “We get the occasional few hours of sunlight here and there, but we’re just too close to the centre of the storm.”

“The centre of the storm?” Oscar’s jaw worked and he glanced into the distance.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Not yet in any case.”

Tjelvar tried to push down his irritation, but it was difficult. He knew that in the inn, with his… insight… Oscar had simply been doing what was necessary, but he kept flashing back to the look on Ed’s face and the anger and frustration wouldn’t settle.

Oscar, for his part, was far more silent than Tjelvar could ever remember him being, the easy smile and confident conversation he’d managed even in the midst of chaos in Cairo was gone.

He was worried, Tjelvar could tell. More than that, he was frightened.

Alarm barriers were fiddly and annoying to maintain and the walk around the perimetre of the village took more than an hour. If Oscar was doing this four times a day, he must be utterly exhausted. 

“Are there many attacks?” Tjelvar asked. 

“There haven’t been recently. Not since Zolf and I stopped a wave a month back. But we can’t afford to be complacent here, if the inn falls he… they won’t have anywhere to come back to…” Oscar stopped, took a deep breath. Tjelvar could see him pulling himself together. “Here,” he said, standing in the final spot and reaching out his hands to Tjelvar to complete the spell. 

Tjelvar wasn’t exactly open about the source of his magic. On digs he preferred to use tools and his hands, although it was convenient to be able to light fires without all the fuss and rigmarole of flint and tinder. It was difficult, tapping into that part of himself. Tjelvar’s magic came from a time before, from the mountains, from long, cold, dark winters with his mother teaching him the old songs and the old ways, and while he could acknowledge that part of that had sparked his desire to know more about the past, more about  _ everyone’s  _ past, it still also reminded him of what he’d left behind.

Oscar began to sing, in a soft, lilting baritone that fell on Tjelvar’s ears like water and Tjelvar picked out the points he needed to reinforce in his own rumbling bass, orcish and whatever unfamiliar language Oscar used for his spells blending together in the damp air and weaving the magic tight and firm.

It would hold for far longer, with the two of them reinforcing each other. A full twenty four hours before they’d need to do it again, with the added bonus of both of them being alerted simultaneously if the barrier was breached.

When they were done Oscar raised an eyebrow at him and Tjelvar shifted a little uncomfortably. “Different times,” Oscar said. “We don’t get to hang on to the images we had of ourselves before the world fell apart, Mr Stornsnasson.”

“I suppose we don’t,” Tjelvar said.

“You’re still angry with me,” Oscar said, as they started back.

“I understand the necessity that war brings on us, Oscar,” Tjelvar said.

Oscar smiled his scar-twisted smile. “But.” 

“But Ed’s been through a  _ lot.  _ He was wondering in Rome for days before Hamid and the others found him.”

“Survived quite well, from what Hamid told me. He’s a credit to the church.”

“From what I can tell they  _ abandoned  _ him there,” Tjelvar said. “I… even wonder if they didn’t do it deliberately.”

“I only got cursory details from Bertie on the way back to Paris, but he had a minder, yes? A cleric of Apollo?”

“Frederick.”

Oscar tapped his lips with one finger. “Interesting. In all the chaos I think it would be impossible to track him down but it does seem suspicious that he didn’t stop Ed from going through the blockade. Also interesting that the cult of Mars let him through.”

“I don’t think they let him through, exactly…”

“Edward is hardly a subtle man, Mr Stornsnasson. Nor is the cult of Mars, for that matter.”

Tjelvar frowned. There were too many threads, here, and none of them were relevant to his current predicament. “I’m worried about him. The rest of us had time to process what happened, even if it was awful, Ed… and Hamid and Azu too I suppose… they’ve just been thrown into a new world and forced to accept it without really understanding it and I’ve been trying to help Ed adjust and be… safe....” Tjelvar trailed off, because Oscar was still looking at him, and he felt himself flush at the expression on his face. “When  _ are  _ Hamid and the others going to be back, Oscar? What sort of danger are they in? Surely you can trust us enough now to…”

He hadn’t done it deliberately, but the amusement in Oscar’s eyes died as Tjelvar spoke and he held up a hand.

“We’ll almost certainly know when they’re done,” Oscar said. “And until then I really can’t risk it. The mission is more important, Tjelvar. We…” 

Tjelvar stopped, put a hand on Oscar’s arm and turned him to face him. “Oscar,” he said. “We’re here to help you.”

“You’re here to deliver a letter,” Oscar said, voice flat. Tjelvar’s eyes narrowed as they looked at each other for a long moment.

“You look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks,” Tjelvar said finally. “At least take this opportunity to recuperate a little.”

Oscar let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I do regret having to be… harsh with you. The stakes are just too high. On some level you understand that, don’t you?”

Tjelvar nodded. “I do.”

“I’m sorry if I made things more awkward for the two of you,” Oscar said then, and there was a glint in his eye.

“You’re truly awful sometimes, Oscar,” Tjelvar said and Oscar winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing loose and fast with pathfinder bard spells is my JAM.


	16. Bathtime

Ed hadn’t meant to spend quite so much time soaking in the water of the bath, but it was deeply relaxing and probably the nicest he’d felt since before Rome. The bathrooms at the Tahan residence were opulent and well appointed, but also largely meant to be staffed by servants who had long since found more important duties to carry out in the Harlequin headquarters, or moved inland with their families, so those agents who were still based in Cairo made do the way Ed had done in the temple. Simple water for washing in the mornings and quick, efficient baths whenever a basin wasn’t quite enough to deal with the grime of the surrounding city. Being able to fully immerse himself and soak in warmth was a luxury that Ed hadn’t had for months and he allowed himself to close his eyes and sink into that feeling, mind blissfully empty and calm.

He startled awake when he heard a chuckle from the edge of the courtyard and looked up to see Wilde and Tjelvar, both looking dishevelled and wet from their time resetting the barrier.

Of course - they would want a bath. Ed scrambled up, reaching for the towel slung over a railing next to the tub.

“It’s all right Edward,” Wilde said, and he was grinning openly. “I’m fine for the moment, and there’s space in the tub for two.”

Ed froze, half out of the tub and looked back at Tjelvar, who was also frozen, mouth half open, obviously about to say something to Wilde, who had turned away and was humming airily under his breath. 

“Towels are on the rack, Tjelvar. Ryo can have your clothes laundered, I’m sure you’ll want the sand of Cairo out of them as well as the mud from this morning…” the innkeeper had appeared, behind Wilde and Tjelvar, and Wilde let out a string of Japanese. The man nodded and proceeded to help Tjelvar with his vest. Tjelvar seemed stunned, having not looked away from Ed the entire time, eyes fixed on Ed's...

Ed suddenly realised he was still half out of the tub and sat down again, a little too quickly, displaced water sloshing over the side of the tub in a wave.

When he looked up again Tjelvar was down to his smallclothes and Ryo was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait…” Tjelvar said, in English. “I need…uh… come… back?” 

Ed stopped himself short of praying to Apollo to swallow him in the earth but it was a close run thing.

“It’s all right, Tjelvar,” Ed said, carefully not looking in his direction. “I’m done you can…”

“Oh, Eddie I don’t mean to throw you out of the…”

“It’s fine, really, I can just…” he stood up again, reaching for the towel and Tjelvar gave a high pitched sound that Ed couldn’t help but turn towards.

Apollo, but Tjelvar was… bigger than Ed expected. Of course he was an orc and orcs tended towards the tall but Tjelvar always _dressed _small - as though he was going to give a lecture to undergraduates, or petition a wealthy investor for a grant. Tjelvar wore buttoned shirts and waistcoats and cravats in muted blues and greys and soft, swirling patterns - the kind of clothes the servants at the manor had worn - elegant and fine quality, but utterly unremarkable. 

Of course in the field it had been different. Tjelvar had been bundled in cold weather gear the same as the rest of them when they were in the alps, and in the tomb in Cairo, in the dark dry warmth, Tjelvar had rolled up his shirt sleeves, loosened his cravat and undone the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing the smallest glimpse of dark, wiry hair that Ed could see spread over all of his chest, tapering down into a trail that lead past his hips towards... 

Ed snapped his gaze back up to Tjelvar’s face, and Tjelvar eyes were wide and dark and his lips were parted and Ed, his mind reacting purely in panic, blindly grabbed the towel and scrambled out of the bath, wrapping it around his waist. 

"Eddie, wait I..."

“It's fine!" Ed said. "I'm totally done. We don't need to share the tub I'll just... I'm going to..." Tjelvar took a step forward... "and I… um. I’ll see you later!” 

He fled.

Back in their shared room, Ed finished drying off and pulled on a spare pair of breeches and a shirt, trying not to notice how the metal of his holy symbol felt cold against too-warm skin. Then he contemplated the doorway. He should go back down to the taproom, see if there were any villagers that needed healing. He should just, go back out there, go about his day, do what Apollo required of him. Yes. Of course he should. There was no reason to stay in here, after all, amidst their shared things, hair still damp from the bath he’d just finished, the bath that Tjelvar was no doubt now in, warm and relaxed the way Ed had been, water lapping at that wide expanse of skin and hair and muscle and…

Ed practically ran down to the taproom. On one of the stools up against it sat Howard Carter, who was sipping from a sake cup and making a face. He glanced up at Ed as he approached, and tipped the cup slightly. 

“My paladin friend,” he said, voice slightly slurred. “Come join me.”

Ed wasn’t entirely sure what to think about Howard Carter. Tjelvar had always looked grumpy when he mentioned him, although he did acknowledge that he’d helped a lot in the tomb before leaving for Japan. He seemed friendly enough, though, and definitely not evil, and right now Edward desperately needed some sort of distraction from his thoughts, so he took the stool next to Carter and accepted the cup of sake he passed to him.

Edward sipped at the warm, clear liquid, enjoying the flavour and the slight burn. He could always get drunk, he supposed. His brother had often done that, when he was confused, or upset, or bored, or a combination of the three. Edward had never really seen the point. Alcohol tasted fine,sure, but it dulled his senses and weakened his link to Apollo and the few times his brother had tried to get him to join in on his drinking had always ended with Ed gently patting his brother’s shoulder as he cried, or trying to stop his brother from getting into fights, or firmly taking him home when he was being _ awful _to someone else.

William had stopped asking Ed to go out with him after a while, and Ed had been glad about that. 

Right now though, the storm of feelings in his gut could do with some dulling, so after his first sip, he downed the cup, and Howard clapped him on the back and refilled it from the small jug in front of him.

“I miss gin,” Howard said. “But this’ll do in a pinch.”

“Don’t you have… duties?” Ed asked, downing another of the small cups and feeling warmth spread in his stomach.

“‘Moff duty. Probably until the golden children return.”

Ed blinked. “The… golden….children?”

Howard waved a hand. “Zolf, Hamid and uh… um. The... the big one. Oh and the weird one. Haven’t met them yet but reliably informed they’re weird. We had to be back here after they left because we’re the _ backup. _ You know? The ones that aren’t as _ good?” _

Ed blinked. “I don’t know… what…” Howard poured him another drink and Ed looked at it for a moment before sighing, picking it up and downing it. At this point he wasn’t sure if he was drinking to calm his own feelings or in an attempt to understand Howard’s, but his head was starting to feel a little less crowded and the rhythm of Howard’s speech had something hypnotic about it.

“Cos Oscar, he never did think we were as good as them. I mean. Obviously _ Zolf _has different… you know… well. Zolf’s different cos... “ Howard dissolved into sniggers. “Cos he’s Zolf. But we couldn’t be trusted with Shouin’s institute because Barnes is too uptight and I’m too…” Howard poured another two drinks, and pushed one towards Ed. “I’m too me. I guess. Also I can’t throw fireballs around and that’s… well that is kind of good. Could get myself into a lot of trouble, if I could do that.” Howard sniffed. “‘S’all right. Better off here any way.”

Edward reached for the drink in front of him, only for a long fingered, delicate hand to gently lift it out of Ed’s reach. He looked up to see Wilde, who downed the shot in one and then put the cup back next to the jug.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for today, Howard?” he said. “I know you’re not exactly on duty but there is always the chance that…”

“...disaster could strike and we’ll have to go sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the mission?” Howard said, waving his hands dramatically.

The inn was relatively silent, and Edward was mostly sure that no one else in the room, aside from himself and Wilde, spoke any English, but the stern expression on Wilde’s face was enough, it seemed, for Howard to back down. 

“Do I need to get a potion for you to sober up?” Wilde said.

Howard patted a pocket, looking like a resentful child. “Got one,” he said. “I’ll be fine if you need me, Oscar.” He took the bottle and one of the cups from the bar, and slid off the stool, stalking from the taproom, steps only very slightly unsteady. 

Wilde sighed and turned to Ed. “He’s one of ours, but I wouldn’t try to match him drink for drink, Edward,” Wilde said, and Edward, who felt a little more warm and a little more calm, but in no way at all drunk, shrugged.

“He seems unhappy,” he said instead.

Wilde folded into the stool that Howard had recently vacated and made a hand gesture to Ryo, who brought him some hot tea.

Obviously _Wilde_ wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. Ed had a flash of that memory again, from his father's party in London, that previous version of Wilde, with his head thrown back, laughing delightedly, one hand holding a wine glass while the other gestured expansively to the enraptured crowd around him, and he felt his stomach lurch with something unfamiliar.

The world was out of balance, and Ed didn't know how to keep his footing.

“Tjelvar was a little worried about you, Ed,” Wilde said. “I wanted to check that you’re all right.”

Ed blinked. It took him a moment to register what Wilde had said. “Oh. That’s kind of you, Mr Wilde. But I’m doing just fine.” _ Tjelvar was a little worried about you. _“The bath was very nice. It’s been a bit… weird. Since Rome.”

“I can only imagine,” Wilde said, a sad smile on his lips. “I honestly am surprised you all managed to survive. Well. Most of you. Still, brave new world and all that.”

“I… uh… yeah. I mean..." Ed frowned. He didn't have a drink in front of him any more and he didn't really feel like tea, but he wanted something to with his hands. One of them crept up to his neck and he cradled his pendant in it, drawing warmth and strength from its familiar shape, but it wasn't enough to tilt the world back into focus. It wasn't enough to make things right. "It’s all wrong though. Isn’t it? The world I mean. Someone broke it, and not even Apollo can tell me what to do to make it right."

“We have some ideas.”

“You and Hamid and the others?” Ed said. “I mean, that’s part of why we’re here yeah?"

"Aside from your delivery, yes, Ed. That's why you're here. And I'm glad of it."

"I want to help, Mr Wilde. I want to help with fixing it.”

“That's good of you,” Wilde said. “And we’re most certainly going to try.” Wilde’s voice trailed off a little at the end of his sentence and he looked up and beyond Ed’s shoulder. Ed turned to see Tjelvar in the doorway, looking at Ed and Wilde with an expression that Ed couldn’t place, strands of still damp hair clinging to his cheeks. He felt a soft hand on his arm, a gentle squeeze from Wilde. “I do apologise, Edward, if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable or awkward today.”

Ed looked back at Wilde, utterly wrong footed now. “Er… what?”

Wilde shook his head a little, and smiled again. "We all need to find something good in this world. To remind us of why we're trying to save it." Then he patted his arm, collected his teapot and cup, and left.


	17. Wanting

In other circumstances Tjelvar would have lingered a lot longer in the bathtub - the water was delightful and should have been soothing, _ would _ have been soothing, if every time Tjelvar closed his eyes he didn’t see, in perfect detail, Ed standing knee deep and dripping and utterly naked painted on the underside of his eyelids.

At this point, Tjelvar was convinced that Ed had been personally sculpted out of some sort of unearthly material by the hands of Apollo himself. Of _ course _ he’d known that Ed was handsome, Tjelvar wasn’t blind or dead and even in the midst of chaos Ed’s smile had the capacity to light up an entire room. Tjelvar had been grimly amused by Bertie’s initial reaction to him in Albertville but then, in Albertville Tjelvar’s mind had been full of Hannibal and the chance to fulfill his life’s work, and a handsome paladin, even the most handsome Tjelvar had ever encountered, wasn’t enough to distract him from what was important.

In Albertville Tjelvar hadn’t spent two weeks in close proximity to Ed, enjoying his gentle questions and calming presence. In Albertville Tjelvar hadn’t spent a year and a half convinced that his only skills were atrophying and useless in a world that would happily forget the past. In Albertville Tjelvar had been an archaeologist with a mission and a purpose and here, now, Tjelvar was just…

....lonely.

He washed and fled the bath, getting dressed with far more haste and less care than usual. Keeping up appearances didn’t matter here the way it probably hadn’t mattered in Cairo and Ed… wasn’t there.

This was stupid. They were both adults, and Ed didn’t deserve to be treated like a child. Tjelvar would just have to tell him that… 

...to tell him.

He swallowed heavily, running a hand through still damp hair. Gods. Tjelvar took a deep breath and headed down to the taproom.

Ed was sitting on a stool at the bar, Oscar Wilde leaning casually and elegantly next to him, sipping tea. Tjelvar had a powerful urge to punch Wilde in the face, which from all reports was a common reaction to the man’s presence, although new for Tjelvar. Utterly irrational, as well, another symptom of today’s revelations.

Tjelvar was _ not _accustomed to this.

He took a breath. The maelstrom of feelings in his gut were all the more reason to get this over with, get it out in the open so they could move forward.

Wilde looked up and raised an eyebrow at Tjelvar. The urge to punch him increased, but then Ed looked up as well and it faded in the face of his smile. He saw Wilde pat Ed on the arm, then turn to go.

Tjelvar stepped forward. “Eddie… could I have a word?” Ed blinked and tilted his head, and Tjelvar glanced around the room. The other patrons were utterly uninterested in them, but Tjelvar felt crowded in and far too observed. He reached out, thinking to grasp Ed’s arm, something that wouldn’t have been strange a week ago, a day ago, but now felt fraught with tension. He stopped, let his hand drop. “In private?”

Ed blinked for a second, then nodded, slipping off the stool. Tjelvar turned and walked back out of the taproom, not sure where exactly he wanted to go. It was still raining outside, so that wasn’t an option. There was, however, a private room that guests could rent just off the main bar, and he slipped inside, sliding the paper door shut behind him, highly conscious of the fact that privacy here was nominal, at best. But he couldn’t think about that, not now. 

Ed should have seemed smaller without his armor, but paradoxically he seemed taller in here. Perhaps it was the low ceilings, or the fact that Tjelvar was standing closer to him than he would normally, having to tilt his head up a little to look at him eye to eye. 

“Tjelvar?” Ed asked, softly. “What is it?”

“It’s about what… what Oscar said. Before.”

Ed chewed on his lip, eyes bright and wide, and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “It’s...you don’t have to be sorry Tjelvar. It wasn’t you who said it.”

“No. But I should have. I mean. I should say something now. Because it’s important to me that you understand exactly how… I mean. I should. Uh…” Tjelvar had given lectures in front of a theatre packed full of students in La Sorbonne. He’d asked for funding from some of the most influential aristocrats in Europe, and he’d written dissertations for the harshest professors in academia. 

Why was this so difficult?

“Ed I…”

Ed reached out and took Tjelvar’s hands in his. Ed’s fingers were warm and calloused and they curled around Tjelvar’s hands protectively and Tjelvar could have sworn he could feel a tremble in them.

“It’s all right Tjelvar. Really. I don’t mind if you don’t feel that way too.”

“It’s just that I…. “ Tjelvar blinked. “Uh. What?”

“Really! It’s totally fine. I know I’m not very smart and you would want to be with someone who _ was _so you could … you know, so you can talk about your discoveries. Someone who understands the work you do. I can’t really… do that?”

“Sorry, uh… Ed. Did you just say…”

“I’m used to people not being interested in me that way for long. It doesn’t matter so long as you don’t mind…if I... I mean. I still want to be your friend, if you’ll… I don’t want to…”

There had to be a point where words were useless. Tjelvar squeezed Ed’s fingers and moved closer, taking a step that all but pressed his body against Ed’s. The breath that he took was shaky, uncertain, but he wasn’t going to let that interfere.

Ed made a small sound when Tjelvar gently brushed his lips with his own, a gentle “mmmph” that turned into a fuller, more rumbling “mmmmm” that resonated through them both. He didn’t pull away, and when Tjelvar did, pulling back a little to whisper against his lips, to check if it was all right, to make sure that he hadn’t misheard, misunderstood, somehow ruined this… Ed tried to chase his lips. 

Warmth rushed through Tjelvar. “Is this all right, Eddie?” he did manage to ask, then, reaching up to stop Ed from leaning in again, wanting to make sure.

Ed’s eyes were closed, but they fluttered open again at Tjelvar’s question and Tjelvar saw his throat work in a swallow. “Um. I think…” Ed seemed distracted by Tjelvar’s question, or maybe it was Tjelvar’s fingers on his lip, that Tjelvar couldn’t stop himself from brushing back and forth across the soft skin there, moving further to cradle Ed’s jaw, utterly enraptured by the textures he was discovering, by the sound and feel of Ed’s warm breath…

“Tjelvar,” Ed breathed, and it had the cadence of a prayer, and Tjelvar _ felt _it like one. 

“Ed?”

“I…” Ed swallowed again, and Tjelvar was close enough that he could feel the thump of Ed’s heart, the heat of his skin. _ “Yes,” _ Ed said. “Yes, Tjelvar it’s okay. It’s very okay. Um…” Ed caught Tjelvar’s wandering hand in his and brought it to his lips, and then turned his hand so he could kiss Tjelvar’s wrist, and then wrapped his other arm around Tjelvar’s waist and pulled him closer, closer, closest and Tjelvar didn’t quite know when he lost control of this situation but oh _ gods _ as Ed pressed in, opening his mouth and kissing him with determination and commitment and _ oh yes a fair degree of skill _ Tjelvar’s logical brain gave up trying to catalogue the situation and he simply clung to Ed with both arms, wanting more, wanting this, wanting _ Ed... _

The klaxon on of the perimiter alarm cut through Tjelvar’s mind like a knife.


	18. The Good Whiskey

Ed tried to work out exactly when it was he’d fallen asleep and started to dream. Usually the dreams weren’t like this, though, usually he woke up before he managed to get to the point where his arms were around Tjelvar’s waist, sabotaged by his own subconscious that couldn’t quite allow itself to follow through to the logical conclusion of that warmth in his gut whenever he looked Tjelvar’s way in the tomb, or the shiver he sometimes felt when Tjelvar smiled at him, or brushed his hand.

No this was different, and not just because Ed hadn’t really thought much about how to negotiate kissing someone who had tusks (all his previous partners had been human). Ed was adaptable, and he guessed Tjelvar was used to it, because they didn’t get in the way at all. 

Not at all.

Ed very much would have liked continue kissing Tjelvar forever and when Tjelvar’s hand reached up and tangled in his hair, tugging gently, teasing apart the strands, any remnants of thoughts scattered completely and Ed let himself drift in sensation.

Apollo only knew what he’d done to deserve this, but he didn’t want it to stop.

When Tjelvar cursed in Orcish and pulled back it took a second for Ed to open his eyes. 

“What is it?”

Tjelvar slid one hand down Ed’s arm and grasped his fingers. “Damn,” he said, voice rough. “Uh. Perimeter alarm just went off.”

“Oh!” Ed swallowed. “We should….”

The sliding door to the room was pushed open and Ed turned to see Howard Carter, more sober looking, one hand holding his crossbow. “Oscar needs you,” he said, then glanced down to where their hands were joined and rolled his eyes. “If you’re not too busy.”

Ed heard Tjelvar swear again. “We’d better be armed,” he said, and Ed nodded.

“Hurry it up, there’s a couple of good chaps,” Howard said and Ed frowned at him, while Tjelvar shook his head and rolled his eyes. He was still holding Ed’s hand. He didn’t let it go until they were up in their room and they were forced to separate in order to get into their gear.

Before they ventured out, Ed caught at Tjelvar’s arm again, wanting to ask, wanting to be  _ certain,  _ needing… something.

Tjelvar glanced back up at him. “Ed?”

“Tjelvar was … did you …?”

“Ed,” he said, and Ed didn’t think he’d ever heard his name said like that, low and soft and fond, it made his chest feel tight and his eyes prickle with moisture. Tjelvar leaned up to kiss him, briefly. “We’ll have time to talk about this. I promise.”

Ed let out a puff of breath and nodded. 

Time.

Wilde was waiting with Barnes at the entrance to the inn. “If we’re lucky it’s just the others coming back,” Wilde said, and Ed could see he was almost vibrating with tension, hands flexing at his sides. “But we need to be prepared for the worst. Howard’s gone to scout ahead.”

There were a few tense minutes while they waited. Ed hefted his morning star and Tjelvar had an arrow nocked on his bowstring. It felt like an age since he’d had to fight anything - the last time had been in that other dimension, where they’d lost Sasha and Grizzop and so much time. It didn’t help that his gut kept twisting into knots every time he looked in Tjelvar’s direction. The third or fourth time he did so Tjelvar looked up and caught his eyes, and the small, fond smile he gave Ed went to his head like strong drink. 

He swallowed heavily and tried to focus on what they were here for.

Finally a group of the strangest people came into view out of the forest at the edge of the village. Carter was in front, looking as disgruntled as always, and behind him...

He recognised Azu and Hamid immediately, although Hamid looked different… sharper somehow. There was a tall person Ed didn’t recognise and…

...about ten kobolds. Ed blinked. Before he could even begin to process things Wilde held up a hand.

“No further,” he said. “You seem to have picked up some friends, Hamid.”

“They were being mind controlled by Shouin,” Hamid’s voice came back. “I saved them.”

“And what happened to Shouin?” 

“Dealt with,” another voice, rougher, came from near the tall person, and a dwarf with a shock of white hair stepped out from behind them. 

He looked dreadful, the tatters of a leather coat and pants hanging off him, hair waving wildly in the wind. Bits of metal could be seen through his pants (although his boots seemed fine - obviously magical) and Ed remembered that the other member of the team - Zolf - had prosthetic legs.

Wilde’s defensive stance dropped as soon as the dwarf came into view and he took a step forward, apparently involuntarily. “Gods, Zolf. What happened?”

“He got struck by lightning,” Azu said, and she didn’t sound pleased about it.

“Twice,” Zolf said. “It’s been a weird couple of days.”

“Also nearly got eaten by an ooze!” the tall person said. This would be Cel, Ed guessed. Process of elimination.

“Weather should be settling down in a bit,” Zolf said then, and he took another hesitant step forward. “Maybe we’ll even get some sunshine.” 

“Struck by lightning?” Oscar said, shaking his head and stepping forward.

“Twice!” Cel offered up again.

“Kinda tired now,” Zolf was saying, and Ed was pretty sure he could see he was swaying on his feet.

“I don’t know if we can fit ten kobolds in the inn, Hamid,” Oscar said, but he was smiling now, and when Zolf was close enough, he rested a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder and squeezed. Zolf looked up at him and gave a small shrug, but Ed could see him struggling not to smile back.

One of the kobolds came up to Hamid, looking nervous, and Hamid spoke to him briefly. “Don’t worry about the kobolds, Oscar,” he said. 

“We can camp,” the kobold said, and with that they scampered off to the side, excitedly chatting to each other in what Ed assumed was draconic. Ed saw Oscar look up and frown, then back down to Zolf, whose smile faded as he looked at Hamid.

“We should get inside,” Oscar said. “I can debrief you and we can plan our next move.”

“Can we put ‘getting me a new coat’ on the list,” Zolf said, and Oscar laughed.

#

Inside, the Zolf and the others sagged against walls and furniture in the private room (where Ed had recently held Tjelvar in his arms, where Tjelvar had pulled him close and pressed against him and…) while Oscar fussed around them, calling for food and drinks from Ryo. Close up, Ed could see how exhausted they all were. By far Zolf had taken the most obvious damage and seemed the most weary, although the others looked tight around the eyes. 

“Does anyone need healing?” Ed asked, and Azu looked up at him and gave him a wan smile.

“Thank you, Ed. We’re just tired now, I think.”

“Yeah,” Zolf said, passing a hand over his eyes. “And slightly naked, here. Osca… Wilde you could fetch me…” Wilde’s glance at Zolf was a little furtive, but he nodded any way.

“Ryo’s handling it.”

“Ed,” Ed looked down to see Hamid smiling up at him. “We thought you were staying in Cairo.”

Ed shrugged, then glanced over at Tjelvar. “Er… some stuff has happened, since you left,” he said, and Hamid tilted his head to one side, eyes wide and curious. 

“Oh?”

Ryo handed a bundle of clothes to Zolf and the dwarf nodded to him before slipping out of the room. 

“We just need… a little bit of time,” Hamid said, adjusting the cuffs around his wrists minutely. Hamid’s actions were always so precise and measured Ed’s eyes were drawn to them, and to the slight sheen of bronze that spread across his small, brown hands. 

“Understandable,” Oscar said. “Meet me in the reading room, when you’re ready.”

“It’s good to be back,” Azu said.

Oscar reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s good to have you back,” he said.

They filed out, leaving Oscar and Tjelvar and Ed alone. Oscar took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, and Ed could see tension leaking out of him as he exhaled, the constant worry that had been on his shoulders during the absence of Zolf and the others beginning to drain away.

He glanced back at Ed and Tjelvar. “You still have the letter?” he asked softly. Ed nodded, and patted his chest, where the letter still sat in his pocket. “The bow and dagger are still in the reading room. I think it’s important that I get the full story about what happened on the island before we… give them any news.”

“You’re happy for us to sit in for the debrief, Oscar?” Tjelvar asked.

“Mission accomplished,” Oscar said, smiling his crooked smile at Tjelvar. “There’s no reason for secrecy any longer.”

Tjelvar nodded, then reached out and took Ed’s hand, lacing his fingers through Ed’s. Ed blinked, looking down at their hands in shock, then back up at Oscar, who let out a soft laugh.

“I see you two have reached an accommodation.”

“Don’t start, Oscar,” Tjelvar said.

“Oh, Tjelvar. You know I never stopped.” He turned towards the reading room and waved a hand for them to follow. “Come on then. I think this calls for the  _ good  _ whiskey.”


	19. Correspondence

The reading room felt crowded with all of them in it. Tjelvar wasn’t tall for an Orc, but Azu most certainly was, and none of the others who crowded in were exactly small, aside from Hamid of course. Tjelvar stood awkwardly near the door, arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out here - he hadn’t known Sasha or Grizzop aside from by reputation, and he felt a little like he’d ended up at the funeral of an obscure relative he’d never met, but was still faintly aware of the ripples their existence had caused.

Wilde reached into his desk and brought out the bow and the dagger that had accompanied the letter, and Tjelvar saw Azu bring her hands to her mouth, eyes wide and shocked, while Hamid let out a small sound from where he sat, almost swallowed by the human sized whicker chair.

“Tjelvar here found these on a dig in France,” Wilde said, and Tjelvar was suddenly conscious of every eye in the room being turned on him. He coughed a little.

“The artefacts we found there are all from approximately a thousand years ago - verified by the university, there can be no question of that - the bow and the dagger, and the …” he glanced at Ed. “And the letter were locked in a chest that was protected by time magic. Ed managed to open it.”

Hamid looked at Ed. “A letter?” 

Ed brought out the letter and handed it to Hamid, solemnly. The halfling’s eyes were wide and round and Tjelvar could see moisture gathering at their corners. “You didn’t open it?”

“It were addressed to you, Hamid,” Ed said softly, and Hamid gave Ed a soft smile.

“Thank you, Ed,” he said, with feeling, and cracked the seal on the paper.

Hamid read.

_ “Hamid and Azu and probably Wilde, I guess. Chances are Wilde will be reading this anyway, I suppose, since he pokes his nose into everything. And yeah, I guess Wilde you deserve to know this too, since you’re not as bad as I thought you were, and I hope you’re still alive and haven’t just… carked it from too much work. You really should rest more you know.” _

“Thank you, Sasha,” Wilde murmured. 

_ “That’s not the point of this letter though. _

_ We got lost, somehow, when we were all trying to get back to Rome. I dunno what Eldarion did wrong but Grizzop and me ended up going back in time. I know it’s weird and crazy but we landed in Rome just before the… just before everything went wrong. _

_ It went really wrong.” _ Hamid took a long, shaking breath and swallowed before he continued.

_ “Grizzop didn’t make it. It’s funny. I’m writing this letter more than twenty years after it happened and it still hurts that he didn’t and I did because he was so good. He cared a lot more about everything than I ever have. But I guess he also cared the most about Artemis and Artemis has him now so that’s good. I guess. Except that I miss him. And I know you all miss him too. Same as I miss all of you, I suppose. But you need to know what happened because someone needs to and much as life here has been okay (and pretty good, actually, in a lot of ways) they never did really get that goblins were just the same as the rest of us, that goblins could be the best people you’d ever meet, that goblins could put you over them so much that they ended up dying lost in the past so far from home that they didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I’m sorry just, I’ll scratch that bit out.” _ Hamid paused again, and Tjelvar saw him wipe at his eyes. 

_ “Grizzop died saving my life. That’s pretty much all you need to know I guess? Except that I’m stuck here in the past and that’s not so bad, really. Barrett can’t get me here, and I’ve made friends, and I’m looking after the kids I find that don’t have another place. Kids like I was. Kids like Brock. _

_ I figure eventually someone will come along and find this chest because that’s what people do, right? I thought I’d ask Apophis to help me get a message to you, but people are just a bit too scared about the dragons now for me to walk up to one and ask it to do me a favour, so I found a wizard and he said that there’s a resonance of time magic (or something) around me that will lock the chest until someone with the same resonance comes near it. It’s a long shot, but I’ve always been lucky, right? I’m still alive.  _

_ I’m happy here, Hamid. Just so you know. I don’t think there’s a way you can come back to get us. If there was a way to stop us from getting here in the first place, a way to stop Grizzop from dying, then yeah, I’d tell you to try. But I don’t think it works that way. I think if you’re getting this letter then it’s too late and it’s been a thousand years and Grizzop is where he is loved as much as we loved him, more than, so you don’t have to worry any more. _

_ I’m looking after the world here. Make sure you save it there. _

_ Love, _

_ Sasha.” _

Hamid let the letter fall into his lap, and Tjelvar could see he wasn’t the only one in the room who was openly weeping. Wilde had one of Zolf’s hands in his and was gripping it tightly while the dwarf rested his other on the man’s shoulder, standing far closer than simple professional partners would, in Tjelvar’s opinion. Azu had moved to Hamid’s chair and had one of his small hands in hers. Cel was probably feeling a lot like Tjelvar at the moment, looking from person to person, sympathy writ plain on their features, but helpless in the face of everyone else’s grief.

He let out a sigh, then felt warm fingers enclose his hand, and looked up to see Ed, eyes just as full as Wilde’s, as Hamid’s. Tjelvar leaned in closer, not worried that they were in a room full of people who might see.

Propriety wasn’t important. Not here. Not now. And Ed needed comforting.

That was one thing he was absolutely able to do.

“Well then,” Hamid said. “I suppose… that’s it? She…”

“She was free,” Zolf said, roughly. “Free of all the stuff she were trying to get away from when we first met her, yeah?”

“I… suppose,” Hamid said.

“But Grizzop…” Azu said, and her voice was choked.

“Died precisely the way we always knew he would,” Wilde said, words clipped, although his voice was hoarse. 

Hamid let out a breath. “He’s with Artemis now, like Sasha said.”

Wilde nodded.

“I don’t know much… about spells,” Azu said, slowly. “But Wilde, you and Hamid…”

Wilde shook his head. “Definitely not my area of expertise,” he said. “You can’t illusion your way into the past. Of all the mages I know, Eldarion would have been the most qualified to explore that avenue, and well…” He sighed. “I have to say though, the fact that we’ve received the bow and the dagger and the letter makes me think that trying to go back could well cause more problems than we could ever hope to anticipate…”

“We’d run the risk of disrupting the fabric of reality,” Hamid interrupted softly, and Tjelvar saw him squeeze Azu’s large hand between his two small ones. “I’m so sorry, Azu. We have Curie’s word that she’ll help us explore every avenue but…”

“She said she was happy,” Zolf said, harshly. “She said she was safe. I’m sorry about Grizzop but even if we could, do we even have the right to bring her back? Into this?” He waved the hand that had been on Wilde’s shoulders, indicating the world, what they were all up against. “Sasha got out, and she’s said goodbye. We should respect that.”

“I don’t think she meant that…” Hamid began but Zolf shook his head.

“She has a home. Had a home. We don’t have the right to take that away from her, Hamid.”

“She didn’t  _ choose  _ it, Zolf! And Grizzop didn’t choose to get lost and die either, it was…”

“It was my fault,” Azu said softly. “They wouldn’t have even come to Rome if I hadn’t…”

“No.” Zolf’s voice was even more firm. “None of that! You’ll end up workin’ yourself into knots if you go down that road and it won’t do no good. Sasha knew what she was doing, better’n anyone else I ever met, and from what you’ve said of your goblin friend he was even worse. They  _ chose _ to be with you, to help you, because they cared about you and they cared about the people you lost. It’s not your fault, Azu.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Cel said. “You didn’t make the world like this. You’re the one trying to fix it! And you’re doing really well!”

Azu opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to say more, but Wilde interrupted.

“It’s academic in any case,” he said, and his voice was flat. “We have a war to fight.”

“Yeah,” Zolf said. “There’s that.”

Azu let out a breath, and Tjelvar got the impression that she was holding back a great tide of emotion. She pulled her hand away from Hamid’s. “I need to… go outside,” she said, heavily. “It’s too crowded in here.”

Hamid got to his feet. “I’ll go with you,” he said, and Azu smiled down at him. 

“Thank you.”

Tjelvar glanced back at Wilde and Zolf, Wilde still gripping Zolf’s hand in both of his.

“I suppose we’ve done what we came to do, then,” Tjelvar said.

Wilde looked down at his hands and blinked, only just apparently realising how tightly they gripped Zolf’s. He let it go, placing both palms flat on the table in front of him.

“You’re still very much welcome to stay with us,” he said. “But I won’t make that decision for you. I know there is work still to be done in Cairo.”

“Not a great deal,” Tjelvar said. “And, I suspect, not as important.”

“We should stay,” Ed said, forcefully, and Tjelvar looked up at him and nodded. 

“Well we could use the help, no question,” Zolf said. “And thank you,” he looked at Ed. “Thank you for bringing the letter. It might not look like it yet but it helps to know the truth.”

“Even if it’s a truth we didn’t want to hear,” Wilde said softly, and Tjelvar saw he had reached out to touch the bow again.

“Come on, Edward,” Tjelvar said, tugging gently on his hand. They needed to leave Zolf and Wilde to their grief. “You’ll let us know when you need us, Wilde?” 

“Of course. And thank you again.”


	20. Shining Light

For Ed, Sasha had been a dark figure of frightening competency, barely seen and hard to comprehend, and Grizzop a tiny ball of righteous fury, strong in his faith and single minded in his duty. He hadn’t known either of them very well, had barely had a chance to even speak to them, in honesty, but Hamid and Azu were his friends, and Hamid and Azu were sad now, and that wasn’t great, and Ed should really be sad along with them…

...Except that he and Tjelvar were back in their room at the inn and Ed hadn’t let go of Tjelvar’s hand and Tjelvar didn’t seem like he was inclined to let go either. The room was small, but it wasn’t so small that they needed to be standing quite so close together, breaths all but mingling, faces inches from each other. Ed  _ should _ be sad, except that when he breathed he was surrounded by Tjelvar’s scent - paper and ink and a hint of the forest - and it was impossible not to smile when Tjelvar looked up at him, squeezing the hand he still held and reaching up to hook his other behind Ed’s neck.

Ed rested his forehead against Tjelvar’s and felt his whole body relax into the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Tjelvar murmured.

“What for?” Ed asked, suddenly frightened.

“About your friends.”

“Oh right, yeah. Well. It sounds like Sasha ended up having a good life. And Grizzop was a paladin - a good paladin too. So he’s probably watching over the others now. It’s what I’d do if I was… and I think Artemis would let him do that if he wanted to.”

Tjelvar’s fingers moved in gentle circles on the back of Ed’s neck and Ed was sure he’d never felt anything so right as the soft scrape of his nails against his skin. He fought against the urge to close his eyes and melt into the sensation, instead pulling back a little bit and looking at Tjelvar.

“What is it, Eddie?” Tjelvar asked.

“I just… is this… is this something… is it…”

“Ed?”

“Is it something we’re uh...  _ allowed?” _

Tjelvar hand stilled and he tilted his head. “What do you mean? Does Apollo not…”

“Oh no, it’s… Apollo’s very much… well he doesn’t… we’re not like you know, Artemis like that it’s just… with everyone else so sad I feel like we kind of might be…” Ed stumbled to a stop, wanting to curse his ever present inability to express himself. “I feel like we’re cheating somehow.”

Tjelvar’s hand came around to Ed’s cheek and pulled him in for a soft, sweet kiss, one that Ed leaned forward into. It felt so right, to be kissing Tjelvar, so perfectly natural and easy, like breathing, or feeling the touch of Apollo’s light on his skin.

He didn’t want to stop.

“I don’t think we’re cheating,” Tjelvar said, when they finally had to come up for air. “What Zolf said is right - the world is… it’s bad right now Eddie. We’re allowed to take what happiness we can.”

“We can shine some light into the darkness,” Ed said.

Tjelvar beamed, and threaded his hand through Ed’s hair. “I think I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has read and commented and left kudos. Ed and Tjelvar deserve their happy ending, although it certainly won't be the last time I write about them.


End file.
